Castling
by rogue-bishop
Summary: Takes place between S7 and S8. In the fight to rescue Jack O'Neill, SG-1 finds the most unexpected ally. He may hold the key to contacting the Asgard, but how far will he have to go to help? (in progress). Rated R for violence and language.
1. The Running Man

SPOILERS!!!:  Anything through the end of S7 is FAIR GAME.  Also, there are small spoilers enclosed for S8.  Nothing too plot-specific but just general facts.  BEWARE… BWAHAHAHAHA!!  Ahem.  Now, I've got that out of my system.

A/N:  Castling, adv.; Movement toward and exchange of position of the king and rook in a game of chess; the risking of an important piece in the defense of a vital one.

A/N 2:  Okay, so I lied.  Well, maybe 'lied' is too strong a word.  Maybe… 'deluded'.  There.  That's better.  I had intended to post this whole novella as a complete work.  I also had intended to post it before the premiere of S8 of SG-1 as it takes place as a prologue to 'New Order'.   Lo and behold, these turned out to be mutually exclusive goals.  So, I decided to split the difference.  This post constitutes about half the total work.  Unfortunately, it's the half that has the slow-ish opening. Ah, well. Such is life. I'll post this now and the rest when (soon) I can put the finishing touches on.  For now, I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think.  I've tossed an original character in and his re-use will depend on what you think.

Running.  That was how it started; running hard, running fast; faster than the wind, faster than any human ought to be able to go.  This day had started out bad, gone to worse and straight through to hellish.  It had started out as a simple sabotage mission.  He and his team had landed fighters in broken formation ten clicks south of the most poorly located Goa'uld refinery in the galaxy.  They had evaded detection easily and slipped into the refinery.  They managed to reprogram the systems and bypass the safeguards designed to shield the ore from the electrostatic storms produced by this world's peculiar features: it had a Lilliputian magnetic field and orbited a star that had become a fantastic luminous blue variable; funny how he still managed to find the features of his native profession fascinating as he ran for his life.  If they had done their job right, the static kicked up by the star-rise in twenty minutes would produce a spectacular explosion.  Liquid naquadah tended not to react well to random energy discharges.

For now, he ran through the inky blackness of night, desperately trying to extract enough oxygen from this rock's thin atmosphere to complete his escape.  They'd been made.  He still wasn't sure if they had been waiting for them of if they simply had had horrible luck.  But the point was, they bolted from the refinery with several jaffa detachments in pursuit.  As bad as that was, he actually hadn't been worried (they'd been in worse spots) until the gliders showed up.  He'd counted thirty, conservatively.  Thank God, his team had made it back to their starfighters.  Unfortunately that left him.  The jaffa patrols had forced him to sneak through rougher terrain back to his F/A-23.  The gray, exhausted looking rock made for a beautifully bleak, razor-sharp maze.  By the time he was within range to punch in the remote preflight sequence, he managed to watch as a flight of gliders pounded his grounded ride into burning, acrid dust.

After a ten second shouting match with his second in command, he had paused long enough to watch five blue lights break away from this tired, lump of a planet and make for the safety of open space, back to the starship waiting nearby.  They weren't happy about leaving him to fend for himself, but his team had followed orders and was away.  That left a strictly second string choice: the stargate.  It wasn't that far (geographically speaking), but it was hardly the ideal choice for this particular location.  He had nothing against the devices.  They were, in fact, tons of fun and usually very convenient.  Unfortunately, this was the last place in the galaxy that someone might be inspired to use one—flying into the system by ship was enough of a challenge.  The atmospheric discharges created by the star's evolutionary turn and the unusual frequency of CMEs meant that no one had used this gate for centuries: safely, that is.  Or, so Tok'ra intelligence had said.

He pushed the reservation down.  There was no longer any other option.  At least he would get straight back to Earth, the SGC and home.  He needed a long shower.  Besides, Jack owed him a few beers and, after today, a poker night with the guys sounded like the perfect way to collect.  The inky darkness enveloped him.  The blackness and the blur of his speed made his eyes nearly useless (and that was saying something) for navigation.  He closed them and stretched out his senses, allowing them alone to guide him.  Truth be told, it was rare for him to have to even moderately tax a skill (especially speed) in this way; but it never hurt to do it occasionally to remember the feeling.  He just didn't appreciate the _need_ to run like this.  He pushed harder, trying to stay ahead of the pattern of the al'kesh as they expanded their search radius away from the facility and toward the gate.

He didn't need to pump his arms, strictly speaking, but the habits of normal running translated pretty thoroughly to this mode of transportation.  He opened his eyes and checked his watch, stilling it slightly—ten minutes to dawn.  Crap.  Why did he have to cut these things so damn close?  If he didn't make the gate before dawn, then this little jog would be over really fast.  He pressed the Velcro back over the watch crystal and self-consciously checked the weapon hanging over his left hip.  He tried to concentrate on a more pleasant subject: lager, stout or ale?  Yeah, this day had to end really soon.  He let his senses flow out like warm clay, allowing their shape to be touched by the nearly featureless landscape, inhaling the vague odor of dust and desiccation.  The timer on his watch vibrated once.  Two minutes left.  Finally, the gate came into view.  Unfortunately, an al'kesh became visible over his right shoulder at the same time.  At long last, he stumbled to a normal trot.  The aftertaste of the exertion on his body and abilities hit hard—he felt the range of his senses decrease drastically as he momentarily recovered.  He somehow managed to stagger to the DHD.  Propping himself on the dusty dialing device, he heard the whine of engines in the distance as his watch vibrated twice.  One minute.  Shit.

Dial Kyle, dial.  Kyle Rand punched in the address for home, listening as each chevron engaged; he pressed the activation key on the console.  Nothing.  _Oh_.  Crap.  Perfect.  This day just kept going and going, like the Energizer Bunny from hell.  His senses still dull, he had no clue how he was going to pull this off.  Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  The dull whine of the bomber's engines had changed pitch.  It was moving straight for him now.  He opened his eyes and began dialing again, saying a slow Hail Mary with each glyph.

            _Hail Mary full of Grace, the Lord is with Thee—Chevron 1_

_Blessed art Thou among Women and Blessed is the fruit of Thy Womb, Jesus—Chevron 2_

_            Holy Mary Mother of God—Chevron 3_

_            Pray for us Sinners—Chevron 4_

_            Now…—Chevron 5_

_            …and at the hour of Our Death—Chevron 6_

_            Amen—Chevron 7_

As his hand touched the activation key again, the star rose with a quiet, blue-tinted fury.  The air began to hum and crackle and the gate leapt to life.  The event horizon sputtered oddly, arced, flushed, collapsed and stabilized at last.  Not the familiar pattern of sights and sounds.  No time to worry about it now.  Flipping his right wrist into view and, tearing a Velcro strap, revealed the blue translucent touch display of his wrist console; with it's built-in GDO. He quickly tapped his personal IDC into the device and his heart raced while he waited for the confirmation light to glow green.  Kyle glanced over his shoulder and felt his hair stand on end.  The soil began to warm dangerously.   The ship's engines reached a fevered pitch as the vessel buzzed overhead.  If only that was his real worry.  As if to console him, he saw a white flash back closer to the terminator—in a direction he vaguely remembered as belonging to the refinery.  With a lopsided smile, he glanced at the GDO.  Green.  Yes.  _Colorado Springs, here I come_.  Unfortunately, the star chose that moment to crest.  Its full disk irradiating the planet, the static began to bounce in vicious, beautiful purple bolts.  _Time to go!_  He began to dash off the last few yards to the event horizon as the static began to arc off the gate and DHD and reach an amazing, dense fury.  No—what was amazing was that the gate could take this punishment daily.  _Dammit, don't think—RUN.  _  Nearly on top of the gate, the static arced through his right leg, dropping him and throwing him into a counter-clockwise spin.  Fine.  Be that way.  He closed his eyes and, using his last bit of strength, willed himself to push off the ground and force his trajectory through the gate like the cork of a champagne bottle.  Inches from the 'puddle,' he inhaled for the one word he would need on the other side.  In that moment, he felt a dreadful turn in the pit of his stomach—the kind that meant that somewhere, something was very, very wrong.


	2. Questions

He flew out the gate with speed that surprised even him. He arrived backwards, staring at the iridescent, flickering event horizon, with the gate activation klaxon sounding odd halfway through a lowing cycle, his vision doubled in the oddest way. He released all his oxygen-deprived breath into a scream he prayed would be loud enough to be heard in Control.

"IRIS!!!!"

He had just enough time to see the iris lock down and hear the buzz of energy pouring through the gate before his upper back and neck slammed against the rear wall of the gate room, damaging the diagnostic equipment in his path. It hurt like hell but he was amazed the impact didn't knock him out immediately. He slid down and ricocheted face-first onto the icy concrete floor.

He heard a familiar voice bellow as the wormhole disengaged, "Identify yourself!"

Collecting his oatmeal-textured brain into something that resembled conscious thought, he managed to say, reasonably loudly, "Its just me Davis."

Then, in an attempt to preserve some dignity, in lieu of drooling on the most trafficked floor in the facility, he started to stand. That's when it happened. Totally unexpected, the worst kind of pain and agony ripped through his body. His brain wrapped itself in a black icy glaze. The last thing he heard before he met the floor again was shouting and the sound of a dozen assault rifles cocking.

IIIIIII IIIIIII

Dr. Weir was well beyond annoyed; a feat for a professional diplomat. "So, who is this guy and how did he get SG-12's IDC?"

Sergeant Siler shifted uncomfortably in his seat. The rest of the stargate technicians glanced at him expectantly and then carefully examined the briefing room table for flaws and fingerprints. This only irritated the seasoned NCO; these idiots were being unprofessional at the least, weasels at the worst. Finally, Siler shot his colleagues the nastiest look he could slap together in three seconds and answered.

"We're not sure yet ma'am. His gear was definitely not SGC issue. Actually, we're not sure what most of it does yet. Major Carter is looking at it now."

Her lips pursed, Dr. Weir, sighed heavily. The technicians all shifted in their seats, not entirely sure what to expect from the new boss. At that moment, the back door of the briefing room slammed open revealing an out-of-breath Daniel Jackson and an irate Samantha Carter. The techs seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief at the diversion.

Daniel muttered a plaintive "oh my," and rested his palms on his knees.

Carter, flushed and clammy, rushed up next to Weir, and stumble-slapped a manila envelope down on the briefing table. Catching her breath, she spoke with an authority that nearly caused the room to jump. "Everybody out. Now!"

The room emptied as if someone had opened a drain, with the technicians evacuating down the spiral staircase with alarming incentive. These days, no one was in the mood to debate Carter, Jackson or Teal'c. Eventually, only the former two and a fulminated Weir remained. Daniel took two casual steps forward, gesturing grandiosely. "I think Major Carter also meant to say…'please'."

Sam shot him a bothered look as Weir leaned forward, arched her fingers and looked at the Major expectantly. Jackson opened his arms, grasping at thin air. "Sam thinks she knows where our visitor came from."

Weir softened her expression in curiosity, leaning back in her seat. "Really?"

"Really."

"Major?"

Sam braced herself against the table with one hand and pinched the bridge of her nose with the other in an obvious attempt to ward off a headache. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks and it was a fair guess that she hadn't. "Doctor, are you aware of the incident where SG-1 was accidentally transported to 1969?"

Dr. Weir blinked an expression that in any culture would be loosely translated as, 'you must be joking'. "What on Earth would lead you to that conclusion?" Daniel stepped forward and grabbed the now-wrinkled envelope from the table and poured out its contents.

"We found these in his vest." At first glance it appeared to be nothing more than the scant miscellaneous items that anyone might take into the field: a few cards, a flash memory disk, some trinkets and what appeared to be a wristwatch. Carter reached over and grabbed one of the cards, and the watch. She flipped the card over to the obverse side, smacking it onto the conference table, and placed the items in front of Weir.

Her expression changed to one of bemused puzzlement. The watch looked unremarkable at first. It was obviously a field model—meant to take a great deal of punishment. It was then she noticed that the face was holographic with Swiss Army logo clearly visible in the top center of the display. Sam took the watch and slid the card over. "And then there's this." It was a fairly innocent-looking RF access card with an embedded microchip. On the front was a horrible image of their guest along with the printed name 'Rand, Kyle.' It bore a distinctly familiar (albeit slightly different) insignia and an amazing lack of any other information that meant it could only be an SGC pass card.

Dr. Weir's mouth opened but no sound emerged. Finally, with wide eyes she managed, "…how…why…?"

Carter sighed. "This has to be an accident of some kind. No one who would have access to the SGC would do this intentionally. We hope. But, we won't know what happened or what's going on until we talk to him. But that might be a problem."

Weir looked puzzled. "Why? How is he?" Daniel leaned against the table, observing the debris.

"Dr. Warner thinks he'll be okay, eventually. He's still not conscious yet, though. But, even if he is all right, it might be in our best interests to learn as little as possible."

Weir nodded reluctantly. "So what happened to him down there?" Daniel glanced at Carter.

She turned to Weir, wringing her hands in a vain attempt to aid explanation. "We think entropic cascade failure. It's a condition that happens when multiple versions of the same person are in the same universe at the same time. Except…this isn't like any version of it that I've seen. He _is_ from our reality—he got here by stargate and the power spike through the gate was definitely familiar."

Weir massaged her temple, grinding her brunette locks into her skin, and shot a glance at Daniel. "Where is Teal'c?"

Daniel glanced at Sam before dragging his gaze back to the boss. "Guarding him." To the untrained eye, Sam seemed merely worried. To Daniel, she looked absolutely on the edge. Not that he was in the most tractable shape himself these days. He had practically screamed when they were recalled from Antarctica, even though it was billed as being for a limited time, and probably was for the best. He knew exactly what was and had been eating her and this situation didn't help. Here was someone at their feet who knew the answers to the most pressing questions on their minds—questions that, if they were right, they couldn't ever ask.

IIIIIII IIIIIII

Dr. Daniel Jackson slowly plodded down the hallway, sipping his coffee. Somehow, even among the gigantic mess that yesterday had dropped on them, he'd managed to go home, sleep and bring a big thermos of coffee in with him that didn't taste like engine oil or pond water. That was good, because today was his turn. Daniel chuckled softly to himself. He was beginning to rue the day that Jack had taught Teal'c to play Rock-Paper-Scissors. Nearly every member of the SGC who knew Colonel O'Neill had been taking his…condition, hard. Getting off the plane from Antarctica, the members of SG-2, 3, 5 and 11 had all been on the tarmac at Peterson AFB to meet them. The members of SG-1, though, were taking it like a kick to the gut. Mostly. One particular member of SG-1 was, if possible, taking it far harder. To Teal'c, his adopted brother and comrade was in grave danger. Daniel himself worried about the loss of his best friend—wondering to himself if this is how Jack had felt letting him slip away. Sam, though, was on the verge of having to mourn something far different. Whatever that was.

Daniel and Teal'c had never openly spoken about that dimension of the "team dynamic" to either Jack or Sam. They knew too well that the feelings between them ran as deep as the pain of the sacrifice they had made by shutting them down…and trying to move on from them as the case may be. Colonel Jonathan O'Neill and Major Samantha Carter, PhD, were vitally important to the success of the SGC and its operations. Their talents and their continued collaboration were invaluable in a must-win war. On the other hand, there was Colonel O'Neill and then there was Jack. There was Major Carter and there was Sam. No one who knew them would dare say anything to them, but those same people who knew with absolute certainty what was really going on (a remarkably short list, given the SGC bush telegraph), had tacitly given Sam's nebulous emotions on this subject a very wide, distinctly un-military, berth. Frankly, the whole situation just made Daniel insanely mad.

To that end, he and Teal'c had an understanding as to what their role in this…thing should be. Typical Sam Carter: she was working herself to death. They touched base with each other throughout the day normally, but one of them had a standing appointment at 0800 every morning to see how she was doing. Had she slept? Had she been home? Did she need anything, at all? The person with this responsibility was determined scientifically. The previous evening, Daniel and Teal'c went best of three at Rock-Paper-Scissors. The loser got to comfort Sam (Daniel's turn today). Not that they didn't want to be there for her, but they thought that she might begin to resent their persistence: hence the coffee gift.

Daniel hoped that the sufficiently randomized nature of his arrival would delay the onset of his eventual ducking of a piece of laboratory equipment-come-projectile. Therefore, he accepted his role and went to comfort the woman whom he'd come to think of as his sister. He arrived just outside her lab, downing the last of his fraction of the magnificent coffee, letting the mug dangle from his fingers. Tentatively, he poked his head into her lab, noting that her door was mostly closed (a neat trick for a blast door). Sam was at the far end of the lab with her back to him. She appeared to be fiddling with a naquadah reactor. On closer inspection, however, she seemed to just be pushing a few parts around with a ball driver and watching the screensaver on her laptop.

He decided that a pleasant surprise rather than a straight interruption was in order. He crept up to her desk and slowly filled her empty coffee mug from the thermos. Quietly then, he came up behind her and placed the mug down on the desk in front of her. "Morning, Sam." She smiled gratefully, the corners of her mouth just visible from his position, and turning took a sip from the mug before turning back around. Her normally cool blue eyes were sunken and their hue dull. Her hair was flat and limp and her skin was immensely sallow. She looked like hell.

"Good morning, Daniel. Thanks. You know…you two don't have to do this."

_Well…I guess the jig is up._ "Sure we do."

Sam turned around in her stool. They sat, silently drinking for a few minutes before she spoke again, peering into her mug, running a fingernail absently over imperfections in the glazing. The jittering sound that made filled the audio void, temporarily. "I'm sure you have better things to do than visit me in the morning. Besides, I should just as easily be checking up on you or Teal'c." She went to sip again and drained her mug.

Daniel filled it again, using the motion to hide his slight squirm. He looked at her with the most open, sympathetic and appraising gaze he could manage. _Oh, well. Its not like we never thought we'd have to mention something._ "I hate to break it to you, but, Teal'c and I are the last people who could believe that." _That wasn't so bad. Gentle, slightly subtle. Reaction…? Way to go, Daniel. Maybe she'll just mention Pete and kindly refrain from biting my head off. That would be nice._

Sam bit her lower lip and nodded gently, before looking back up to Daniel. She set her coffee down deliberately, pressed her eyes shut and nodded. "Thank you," she whispered. Daniel lightly squeezed her shoulder the best he could while still holding a mug and thermos. This was already going much better than the worst-case scenario that he'd been imagining. She rubbed her temples and sank further into her stool, leaning an elbow on the workbench. "I have to admit that I'm actually entertaining something that's completely against my better judgment," she said with a wave of her hand.

Daniel lifted his eyebrows. "Let me guess…Rand?" Sam sighed and nodded, dropping her chin like a whipped puppy. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, something occurred to me last night." Sam looked up slightly, cocked her head to the side curiously and listened. "Well, based on our own experience going back in time…he may decide that there are certain things he can tell us. He also…might not. But, there's at least the possibility. Sort of." He set his mug and thermos down and leaned against the desk with his arms crossed, immediately hating himself for dropping that tidbit.

"I doubt that, Daniel. Everything that we know about time travel tells us that that could be a very bad idea—we can ask all the questions we want but he probably won't say anything, for our own good. Not that I don't wish things were different." She shook her head longingly.

"Well, he would know, not us. Hey, speaking of that, I wanted to ask you something. What was it that happened to him last night? It didn't really look like that entropic cascade thing…I've seen that before. He just seized and collapsed, like someone turned him off."

"I honestly don't know what it was, Daniel." There was a scratching sound approaching the door. Looking up, Daniel and Sam noticed the monolithic figure of Teal'c filling the doorway. Daniel smiled over his shoulder and raised his mug in salute.

"Hi, Teal'c. How are you?" As stoic as ever, Teal'c glided into the room cradling an overnight mail envelope in his massive hand. How a man that large managed to sneak up on anything so well never ceased to surprise him.

"I am well, Daniel Jackson. Are you well this morning Major Carter?"

Sam repressed a smirk and lowered her head slightly against the tall man's stature. "I'm okay, Teal'c. What's that?" Sam raised her hand, indicating the parcel. Teal'c's face turned down into a concerned frown that spoke volumes to the other two.

He raised it slightly, reading the label. "It is a package that recently was cleared by security." Daniel's eyes hooded as he bit back a sarcastic comment. "Well, that much is obvious. I think she meant to ask who it's for."

With a slight inclination of his head, Teal'c lowered the envelope and extended it toward Sam. "It is addressed to Major Carter." Sam wrinkled her face and took the envelope. It was a heavy cardboard mailing envelope, obviously containing a number of other documents, from its heft. The envelope seemed oddly immaculate for having been through any mail or parcel system. Daniel and Teal'c watched with interest as her eyes chanced on the mailing label. They exchanged curious looks as her eyes widened in confusion. With a heartbeat's pause, she tore at the envelope seal. Dropping from her stool perch, she quickly poured out the contents: a thick envelope and a single sheet of paper. She turned over the envelope. It was a normal device shaped for A4 paper and had a single word scrawled on the front: "Kyle." She passed it to Daniel and picked up the sheet of paper.

Teal'c had known Major Carter for years and had learned her mannerisms and expressions well. The nuances of her eyes, the posture of her body and the disposition of her mouth conveyed as much or more to him than the words she voiced. What he saw now was best described as intense and fearful… curiosity; of a nature that he almost never saw. Samantha Carter's forehead creased in several layers and her gaze shot over the paper. Her eyes paused in their search of the page and she brought her left hand up so that both were now gripping the page. She seemed to cling to it as though her life depended on its proximity. She frantically turned it over to the blank side and then, just as quickly, returned it to the printed. Daniel Jackson blinked rapidly, taking a half step forward.

"Sam? What is it?" Major Carter opened her mouth to speak, but no sound emerged—she simply passed the letter to the archaeologist with a considered pause.

Daniel took the page from Sam's hand and let his eyes defocus as he examined the handwriting before looking at the text—an old habit. That alone, was enough to stop him. It was clearly Sam's carefully measured handwriting. If this was what he was thinking it was, then it seemed entirely too long—dangerously so. The note was nearly a half page. Teal'c leaned in over Sam slightly; only his eyes betrayed his deep concern.

"What is it Daniel Jackson?"

Daniel gaped. "Um… it's a note. From Sam… to Sam." Daniel glanced up from his latest find to see Teal'c's eyes widen and his stance recline; his version of braced surprise. "It says… Sam. I know what you're thinking: this is way too long. I remember reading this note myself. Just breathe. I would have preferred to write the standard two-liner but that just won't work this time. As you read this, Kyle is waking up in the infirmary. Go see him. Get Kyle to take you to the Bifrost Bridge. I can't say any more; he'll tell you what little he can. Kyle is an outstanding officer, a brilliant scientist and a wonderful friend… to all of us; use him. I'm not trying to give you his résumé, but the point is Kyle is as much family to me as Daniel, Teal'c… Jack and Cassie. Trust him as such. Signed, Sam." Daniel turned over the note in his hand several times, as though it would come alive and give him his next course of action. He heard a faint wisp of a voice float up from beside him, and barely recognized it. The ups and downs of the past few weeks were wearing them all thin.

"Daniel, have you ever heard of a Bifrost Bridge?"

Daniel wrinkled his brow and thought for a moment… wait. "Of course!" Sam's eyes widened and Teal'c crossed his arms and shifted his weight expectantly. Daniel was so shocked looking from one to the other that he hardly noticed the increasing annoyance plying it's way steadily across Sam's face.

Teal'c managed to break his reverie, though, by raising his voice. "Daniel Jackson. Please elaborate."

Daniel began to pace randomly, his hands flying in every direction. "Okay. According to Norse myth, the realm of the gods and the realm of man were connected by a rainbow called the Bifrost Bridge."

A small smile played on Teal'c's face. "Conceivably a way of contacting the Asgard."

Sam's smile broke and she was about to speak as the phone rang. She walked over and lifted the receiver. "Carter." She looked up at the men and her smile became a grin. "We'll be right there." She replaced the handset to its cradle and grabbed a duffel bag in the corner of her lab, before turning to the expectant and confused looking men. "He's coming around."


	3. Answers

The world began to emerge again in fuzzy gray tatters, like the gentle tears in rag paper. Sensations sharpened one at a time, objecting at being pressed into service again. He felt the all-too-familiar itch of over-starched infirmary bed sheets under the exposed skin on his neck. _I really need to stop waking up here. _Kyle groaned. It was a small, far away sound. Apparently, hearing had regained some of its zip. His extra senses were slowly beginning to come back as well, but they felt raw and pounded. Something was not right. He found people at the edge of his perception. Some were reminiscently familiar. But… there it was. Something was off, something slightly wrong with their presence, like trying to see the portrait on a coin at the bottom of a swimming pool. He forced himself to sit up. His vision was still a gray-tinted blur, black spots dancing like fleas; his muscles were efficiently impersonating bricks. He managed to prop himself up and open his eyes.

The sounds and antiseptic smells of the infirmary were almost familiar. At present, the curtain was drawn around his bed. He was dressed in infirmary pajamas. Knitting his eyebrows, he looked to the table on the right of the bed, hoping to confirm the presence of his weapon—or, in this case, the lack of it. Now he was grumpy. It should be there—it was always there. It was a pretty universally understood rule at the SGC that only about five people on base were allowed to handle Rand's rather unique weapon. Break that rule and you might just find yourself flying through the air, bouncing off the ceiling of the embarkation room. It was then he noticed the voices: two women, two men having a quiet debate on the other side of the curtain. The woman speaking now was vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place her. The man she was speaking with was, from the vocabulary, obviously the doctor—though, he had thought he knew most of the MDs that worked at the SGC. This was getting more and more interesting. Suddenly the two others chimed again with a new, deep voice reinforcing—those he recognized immediately. His vision was still terrible and he felt like the floor of a taxicab, but he shifted his weight to listen closer. The bed squeaked a bit and all he caught was, "he's awake."

Dr. Warner pulled back the curtain to reveal their guest propping himself forward to listen. He was wearing pajamas and a confused, frustrated expression. He was a younger man with military length brown hair and fair but tanned skin. Well built, about 6', maybe 170 lbs. His dark brown eyes were closed almost to slits as if he were fighting to become accustomed to the lighting shrouding them from this angle; like a drunk fighting a hangover. He looked terrible, dripping with sweat and appeared to have a slight tremor, his muscles twitching in intermittently. The infirmary had been cleared of non-essential personnel; Dr. Weir flicked a glance over her shoulder before she stepped forward cautiously.

Recognition dawned on him. He squinted at the doctor and at Jackson, Teal'c and Carter. Relief very obviously washed over him as the emotion made its way to his face. He grinned weakly and rubbed the back of his head. "Hey, guys. Sorry about the entrance. Do I get any points for missing the window?" Weir closed her open mouth and looked straight at the truncated SG-1. They were staring at each other in some odd, indecipherable, way. Jackson's brow furrowed and he regarded the stranger carefully.

With a quick glance at Carter, Teal'c and finally herself, he found a voice. "Hello. Um… welcome… to the SGC," he said, pushing his glasses idly up the bridge of his nose and crossing his arms. The stranger's face that had eased itself a moment, looked even more perplexed now.

He rubbed his face with both hands and pried his eyes fully open. "Um…Teal'c, Daniel, Sam? What the hell is going on?"

They exchanged furtive glances and looked to Dr. Weir for encouragement and permission. They had informed her of the letter on the way. Until then she hadn't really been buying this but she had acceded to the evidence and decided to play this close to the vest, letting SG-1 take the lead. The man on the bed cocked his head slightly. Weir watched as he closed his eyes and exhaled as if to gather patience. "Okay, something is off." His eyes flipped open and looked at her carefully, and then the others. His mouth opened a little, taking in Dr. Jackson who stood casually, hands in pockets unsure how to behave. He began to fidget. Concern deepened the stranger's expression. His gaze shifted to Carter. She was standing ramrod straight, almost at attention except for the crossed arms, cradling her elbows in her palms. The stranger looked at her face, then her collar. He looked squarely at Teal'c's face. The reaction was immediate. His eyes went wide. Weir was unsure what to say or do and that was probably her least favorite position. Something told her the answers would come of their own accord now. At the very least, he seemed well and accustomed to them, even if the converse was far from true. Painful comprehension seemed to dawn on the man's face. He buried his face in his hands and fell back to a laying position on the bed, releasing a very quiet, "ah… _shit_."

This couldn't be happening. "CME. Right. Fan-freaking-tastic." He sighed deeply, dropping his hands and staring at the infirmary ceiling as Dr. Weir found her voice.

"CME?" She looked at him for the moment and then back to Sam, pulling in the corners of her lips. Sam stepped forward, past a green duffel bag on the floor and nodded.

He spoke gruffly before she could answer. "Coronal mass ejection. I don't _believe_ this!" He sat up slowly and scooted to let his feet hang over the end of the bed, feeling a little less like spitting up his colon. He looked at the three teammates and shook his head. They knew the score. They waited for him to ask the questions. "What's today's date?"

Daniel piped up. "May fourth." He raised an eyebrow and allowed himself a thin smile. Daniel seemed to have realized the omission. "2004." Thank God for small favors. It explained why so much seemed familiar. He was only back a few years. He began thinking back, trying to place this time, muttering to himself.

"May fourth… May 2004… what was going on? " _Oh, great_. "Oh…"

Kyle rolled his eyes. This was a great time to pop in. He hadn't been around at this time (none of that running into himself business—score) but he knew exactly what was going on—unfortunately. It explained why Daniel, Teal'c and Sam especially seemed to be on the verge of a nervous breakdown. He could feel the pain radiating from them like a bad smell and Sam's was practically a flavor in his mouth. Dr. Weir extended her right hand, offering a shake. "Dr. Elizabeth Weir. I'm the administrator of this facility." He took her hand and shook the best he could—it came off a little limp. _Of course, Dr. Weir had run the SGC for a few months before… Right_.

He cleared his throat. "Kyle Rand."

Sam uncrossed her arms and turned over the envelope she had been concealing in her hands. Teal'c rocked carefully onto his heels and clasped his hands behind his back, relaxing his body from a slightly aggressive coiled posture. She looked at the stranger carefully for a moment before offering the item with narrowed eyes. "This came for you." Rand's forehead wrinkled but he took the envelope with still-shaking hands. He tapped it and tore off the edge, spilling the contents into his free hand. Several folded rectangles, a flash memory disk and a larger sheet of paper emerged. He glanced over the smaller items before unfolding the large, single sheet of paper. He read it. Then he read it again and turned it over.

Finally, he wiped a layer of sweat off his forehead and breathed, "They must be crazy."

With the slightest shift in weight, Teal'c intoned, "What about the message perplexed you?"

Kyle exhaled and blinked with an extended pause. "It says that you have a job for me and basically… within reason, I can't do any real damage. I don't know if I buy that but I trust the source and… it comes with orders from my CO." He balled the paper and tossed it up, catching it as it came back down. Weir's eyes darted around, before she sucked in a resigned breath.

"So, you're military? Air Force?"

Kyle smirked and looked down, fidgeting. "Yes and no, respectively. My branch…well, you haven't heard of us yet."

Teal'c's head rose slightly. "What is your rank?"

Kyle made eye contact fleetingly with each of them. Daniel noticed a detail, just then. With the man's eyes clearly open all the way and with prolonged examination, he noticed that their seemed to be an odd…sheen to them, if that was the word. There were flecks and lines of a brilliant copper color mixed in with the brown of his eyes, giving them an almost fluorescent quality but it was only visible when looking at them directly. "Well, equivalently, I would be about an Air Force lieutenant colonel…well, maybe a bird colonel. I'm a captain, and that's all you need to know." After a quick glance around he looked to the security camera in the corner, biting the inside of his left cheek as he contemplated the surveillance device. "Dr. Weir? Can you take care of those as long as I'm on base?"

Weir nodded. "Sure. I'll have it all archived and after you leave we'll do a clean sweep. Will that work?"

He nodded. "Yes." The paper in his hands began to smoke and then blacken. Before there was any flame, the evidence had been reduced to fine ash. Daniel listened as he muttered softly about that being better than a paper shredder.


	4. Promise

After a few hours rest and organization, it was decided that SG-1 should interact with their guest to the exclusion of most of the base. Captain Rand wanted to limit his exposure and was concerned about avoiding specific people though he wouldn't say whom. Sam entered the large isolation room on level twenty-four, followed by Daniel and Teal'c. She slung her laptop bag onto the couch at the far end of the room. Kyle was facing away from them, tossing a tennis ball against the back wall with his feet propped up on the far desk. He'd changed into a blue BDU and seemed entirely at home. The subdued lighting and the comfortable setting made this room seem more like the conference room of a hotel rather than what it really was. Teal'c slid around her as she had paused in thought, dropping the two pizzas on the coffee table in the middle of the room.

Sam jerked herself back into motion and slid the laptop out of the bag, onto the table. "Captain, we brought some pizza."

He caught the ball and slid to his feet. "Kyle, Sam. Just Kyle. Besides, the idea of outranking you is downright creepy." Daniel set down the bags of books, journals and drinks.

"Speaking of creepy," he mentioned, his voice trailing as he silently counted the books in a particular bag.

Teal'c sat and peeled open the first pizza box. "Are you hok'tar?"

Kyle smirked playfully and dropped into a chair next to Teal'c. "Sort of. The Goa'uld concept is a little… off. But, I suppose the bottom line is about the same." He shrugged. "Mostly." They began picking through the box and doling out drinks. The mood was downright morose, but lightening by a degree, allowing Sam to draw on her curiosity. She munched down a bite of pizza and looked at their guest sideways.

"Kyle, what can you do?"

Kyle smirked. "Well, I cook. I've been known to play a pretty mean piano, video games, I juggle… poorly, and I fence." That earned a smile from Sam and the corners of Teal'c's mouth turned up slightly.

Daniel shook his head with a thin grin. "I think she meant…"

Kyle nodded and waved his hand as he swallowed. "I know, I know. I'm empathic, Daniel." He took another bite of pizza. "I'm just trying to lighten things up some." He sighed and looked at each of them. "The rest of the stuff, you've pretty much seen in one form or another." Kyle brushed the cornmeal off his hands and dragged the sack of papers over, frowning as the poked through the collection. "So, what's the plan?"

Daniel wiped his mouth, adjusting his glasses. "The note said that we should ask you about the Bifrost Bridge." Kyle nodded. "Sure. Actually, that makes some sense." Sam drew her legs up under her and bit her lower lip in contemplation. Kyle turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "What, Sam?"

She looked directly at him and exhaled quickly. "Kyle, could you help the Colonel?" Kyle set his Diet Coke down on the coffee table and turned toward the overstressed Major.

"Not like that Sam. Look… I have healing abilities. But, they're mostly limited to myself. Honestly—it's not my strongest talent. Even if it were, it wouldn't fix what's wrong with him. The Asgard are the only ones that I know of that can. God knows…" He paused, and looking up, considered his words carefully. He sighed and looked over the three of them. "I will do whatever I have to do to make sure Jack O'Neill pulls through. I swear I'll do the best I can, Sam." Kyle ran his hand over his face and held up three fingers of his right hand. "Scout's honor."

He had looked at all of them but the last two words were expelled with him looking directly into Sam's eyes. She nodded slowly, her eyes moistening in spite of herself. "Okay." She drew in a breath and took a sip of her soda. The corners of Daniel's mouth turned up slightly, his eyes puzzling in anticipation.

"So. Norse myth aside, what is the Bifrost Bridge? I'm assuming it's not actually a bridge." "No more than the Hall of Thor's Might is a hall," Teal'c added. Kyle and Daniel both smirked and Daniel rolled his eyes down. "No. It's an Asgard plexus. Sort of a long range communications router for our galaxy."

Sam's forehead creased. "But, we already have a way of contacting the Asgard. They just haven't answered." Kyle shook his head and grabbed his soda.

Taking a sip, he said, "I know. But, you have to understand, each communicator has an indicator on it like…Caller ID." He rested the drink on the arm of the chair and bit back a bitter laugh. "The Asgard are having a bit of a rough time right now and they won't divert attention to answer the phone from the kids down the block. In fact, they've shut down those systems all together. This is important, even to them, but right now you need to get their attention."

Teal'c's head inclined. "The Replicators. How will this device attract the attention of the Asgard?"

Kyle crossed his legs and sat back. "Well, it's more of a place than a device. And it might not be easy to get to. But, I know the Asgard fleet encrypts, and Thor's personal ID. Trust me, they'll pick up the phone."

Daniel's eyebrows climbed past his glasses. "Thor's personal ID? As in his home number?" Kyle nodded. Daniel pushed his glasses higher, as if trying to visually stifle his surprise. "How did you ever manage that?" Kyle turned his hands up and looked down at them. "Thor and I go way back."

They spent the next several hours planning the details of the mission. According to Kyle the planet where the access terminal to the Bridge was located had a stargate but was inhabited by dubious locals: they were unsure what kind of reception they would get. They asked for and got a gate departure slot from Dr. Weir at 0700 the next morning. It would involve a long trek from the gate and be at least a day and a half there. That meant two overnight stays, minimum. They began planning the necessary details of their field kits when something appeared to occur to Kyle. "Um, guys?" All three looked up from their notes. "I know they couldn't pry Teal'c's staff weapon from his cold, dead fingers but…what do you two use?"

Sam smirked. "I guess you probably use something different. Four years ago, we used MP5s." Her face broke into a smile. "We use P90s. Are you okay with them?"

Kyle nodded and bugged his eyes. "Yeah. It's just been awhile. I should probably hit the range tomorrow morning and empty a few clips, though."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "You did not arrive with a weapon?" Kyle rolled his eyes. "I had to ditch it on the mad dash to the gate. Still had my sidearm but it's fried. Thanks for returning it by the way," he gestured to the duffel in the corner.

Daniel got a curious look on his face. "Kyle… how far back _have_ you come?"

Kyle stretched and yawned out his response. "A few years. Not too many."

Sam stretched her eyebrows up and tossed down her pen before rubbing her eyes. "We should get some sleep."

Teal'c stood and offered his hand to help her up. "I agree." Daniel slapped his notebook closed and rose from the couch with a long stretch.

Kyle turned to Sam. "Sam, can I borrow your computer? I got sent the data to calculate my return on a little flash drive and I should do it after you guys have left."

She nodded. "Sure. It's plugged in but there's a spare battery in the bag." Kyle nodded in return. "Thanks. Sleep well, folks."


	5. Nothing Here But Trees

Teal'c stepped into the men's locker room the next morning expecting to have a few quiet moments to lay his equipment out. SG-1 was the only unit scheduled to go off world and, due to the months of re-organization, most other personnel were on stand-down. It made the SGC eerily quiet, but that quiet occasionally paid dividends. His heavy boot steps echoed mutely on the safety carpet as he wandered over to his locker space. He reached for his tactical vest and noticed a wisp of humidity condense on his skin; he noticed the faint odor of soap hanging in the damp. He turned his head and noticed a soft clicking sound.

The lights in the room save those over the individual lockers were still out. He could just make out a shadowed form sitting at the far end of the locker room, hunched over in the shadow. After a handful of moments, he determined, or rather, deduced who it was. "Good morning, Captain Rand." Another soft click; the form looked up.

"Morning, Teal'c." With a slight bow, Teal'c took a few steps to the side and flipped a wall switch, bringing up the lights. Rand blinked slightly, but otherwise kept at his task: re-assembling a cleaned and stripped P90. Teal'c cocked his head in curiosity.

"Would not that task be easier with illumination?"

Rand nodded. "Sure. But, I should be able to do it in the dark." He pushed a pin into place and lifted the weapon, pulling at the slide. He inspected the breech and released the slide with a loud and satisfying CLACK. He removed the clip and set the weapon down on the bench.

The clothes he had arrived in had been destroyed with electrical burns, so he was wearing familiar green BDU pants and boots with a black tee shirt. His face was flushed from heat and his hair was brushed and damp. He picked up a web belt and began moving a black, cylindrical sheath with a large burn mark on it to the left side from the right. Teal'c watched the strange man's movements: they were slow and methodical, almost plodding. He seemed troubled. Teal'c was never one to mince words but, with people to whom he was not especially close, as long as it did not interfere with the task at hand, it was none of his affair. "Has your proficiency with this weapon been renewed?"

Rand nodded as he stood and gathered up the over shirt to the BDU. "Yeah. It's like riding a bike." His eyebrows twitched. "You never really forget how to do it."

Teal'c nodded and smiled slightly. "So I have been told."

Daniel Jackson meandered into the room looking particularly drowsy. Kyle broke eye contact with Teal'c and repressed a slight smile at the sight, shaking his head. "Morning, Daniel. Please tell me you slept last night?" Daniel slogged down onto a bench and leaned over, snagging his vest and jacket from his perch.

"Good morning. I slept… some. I spent some time researching myths surrounding the Bifrost Bridge. There wasn't much to find, but I really shouldn't have started that late." Kyle nodded, pulling on his jacket. He grabbed his gear and rummaged along one side of the bench. He produced a covered plastic foam cup and walked over to where Daniel was wobbling. He set it down gingerly beside the depleted archaeologist.

"You might want this. I haven't touched it. Not a good idea with the meds they had me on."

Daniel looked up a little too hopefully. "Black?" Rand nodded, pulling on his vest. Jackson's face broke into unmitigated elation, lifting the cup. "Thank you. I'll have to add precognitive coffee delivery to our list of observed psychic phenomena."

Teal'c cocked his head slightly. "Indeed."

Kyle rolled his eyes. "I'm so glad you have a good use for me in mind. If you're nice, I'll give you lottery numbers before I go." Daniel grinned sheepishly. "Can you do that?" Kyle sighed and shrugged. "Hasn't happened yet. Besides, I didn't need to have a vision to know you'd stay up. Enjoy; I need to go baby-sit the dialing computer. See you guys in the gate room."

IIIIIII IIIIIII

Samantha Carter plodded down the too-empty corridors of the SGC, brooding her way through her pre-mission routine toward the armory. So far she'd been able to shower, dress and prep the mission without having to talk to a soul. An unexpected bonus to an off world assignment was the fact that she wouldn't have to wait for one of Teal'c and Daniel's morning visits. It was sweet, and she knew that they meant well but it was easier for her to just work the problem. In fact, her mood had lifted at the prospect of going off world to find a solution. Possibly it was only a distraction, allowing her to ignore what she was going through but she would take it. Maybe what made her so… bothered by their visits was that she had no logical reason to be going through this—not in this way, not any more. On second thought, maybe she shouldn't begrudge her teammates' efforts too much; she could use some genuine lightening up; it would help.

"You have to be kidding me." She heard a vituperative growl coming from around the corner.

"I'm sorry, sir, I can't do that." It sounded suspiciously like the voice of the armory sergeant.

She slowed at the corner and rested her hand on the icy concrete tube, bending her body slightly around the corner. She saw Captain Rand standing in front of the armory gate; dressed in field kit, arms resting on a slung P90. His back was to her but she could see the young sergeant on duty on the other side of the gate looking pallid. "Please explain to me why you let me have an assault rifle this morning but I can't withdraw a non-lethal sidearm now?" Sam grinned at his obvious frustration and rounded the corner, taking slow steps toward the pair.

"Sir, all alien devices are restricted to authorized personnel."

Kyle huffed. "I'm fully aware of that, Sergeant, but I'm standing here; in this facility. You've got to see the logic here."

"If I could see your ID, sir…" Sam was close enough to see Kyle's narrowed eyes. He opened his mouth to release a reply. By the expression on his face, it wouldn't be kind, so she stepped up beside Kyle and spoke.

"It's alright, Simms. We'll take two and a P90 for me."

Relief washed over the NCO's face. "Yes, ma'am." He disappeared into the back of the room. Kyle's face relaxed and he seemed to regret what he had not quite been allowed to say. "Thanks."

Sam smiled wryly. "You know, you could have just waited for one of us." The sergeant returned with a P90 with ammunition, two zats and the appropriate harness and holsters. Rand grabbed the spare zat and began clipping it onto his belt and leg.

"Well, where would the challenge in that be? Besides I had to run an errand."

Kyle picked up her P90 and Carter popped an eyebrow as she clipped the holster and harness to herself. "An errand? Like, betting on horse races, putting some cash down on stocks, that sort of thing?" Kyle chuckled and they started off toward the control room.

"Nah. As fun as that might be, I needed time to hotwire the dialing program before they send the MALP. Actually, it's probably a good thing I ran into you." She tightened her sling and stumbled while clipping the leg strap on her thigh holster.

What do you need to do?"

He stepped out of her way and passed her the weapon. "The planet we're going to is in a ternary star system, like Alpha Centauri. It's a close central binary with a third distant companion. I'm going to make sure the trajectory calculations are alright."

Sam pursed her lips pensively. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." They started up the wide steps to the control room and Rand flicked his eyes over toward her.

"Quit it, ma'am." Sam closed her eyebrows together in frustration and surprise.

"Quit what?"

He stopped and poked his head into the control room. Finding it relatively deserted, he dropped down to a free terminal in front of the observation window as a MALP trundled into view below. "Blaming yourself." Her eyes widened accusingly. His face remained impassive and he simply spun his eyes back to the monitor. "For K'Tau. There was no way to anticipate what happened. Besides, you don't have a monopoly on major screw ups." A few minutes passed with the pair silently working. Sure enough, the first two tries failed to produce a lock. Several minutes later, using Sam's administrator password to change some variables, they managed to dial successfully. The MALP showed a positive environment and the gate appeared to be in a wooded area at local nighttime. Finally, they stood and made their way to the gate room; Teal'c and Daniel were already waiting and the gate had begun to dial.

Daniel watched as Dr. Weir made her way down to the control room as chevron four locked into place. Sergeant Davis had come on duty and was running the dialing program. Teal'c and Sam were tossing some idea quietly back and forth to the side. Kyle seemed to be taking the place in. Not with the awe of someone visiting for the first time but someone simply, quietly absorbing in every detail. Daniel smiled thinly to himself. _I guess I'd probably be doing the same thing. Must be pretty different._ He seemed to shake himself and began patting down some of his gear. Looking himself over quickly, Daniel watched his eyes fall on his right shoulder: at the blank space normally occupied by an SGC unit patch. He seemed to frown slightly. "So what usually goes there?"

Kyle lobbed him a sarcastic grin and made a circle with both hands. "Well, it's this round thing. It's black and gray, it's got a number on it and the letters 'S' and 'G' at the top." Daniel narrowed his eyes and looked up as the seventh chevron locked. Elizabeth Weir leant over Davis and bent the PA microphone; her dark locks nearly dropping onto the highly-strung sergeant.

"SG-1, good luck." Sam looked over her shoulder and nodded curtly. Teal'c inclined his head and Daniel waved once. With that brief pause, SG-1, plus one, minus one, stepped up the ramp and through the event horizon.

A heartbeat later, the group stepped out onto the platform of the receiving gate. The cool, crispness of an alien dawn greeted them. The stargate was mounted on a slightly elevated stone platform in a small, grassy clearing. The three squat flagstone steps leading to the forest floor met the end of a path that wound it's way between the thick trees and away to the southwest. The gray sky above was shifting to a nearly familiar pale blue and a gentle golden light filtered through the boughs of the evergreen trees that seemed to engulf them. Thin filaments of the newborn daylight stretched across the clearing, dappling every surface; a pleasant, slightly musky, pine scent washed through the clearing on the chill morning air. The MALP was off to the left, clumsily perched near the DHD at the base of the platform, it's treads mired in a paste of thistles and churned up mud. The four of them spread out silently, sweeping different sectors of the surrounding forest. It was vacant as far as their vision went through the growth, and only the occasional breeze, calling bird or chirping insect, disrupted the calm air. Satisfied, Sam nodded and Daniel broke the silence. "Well, do I get to guess which way we go?" That earned him a few amused looks as they relaxed their postures and began wandering down the path.

Kyle sighed and pulled on a pair of sporty military sunglasses. "I so can't believe I'm doing this."

Blue spears of mountain became visible in the distance ahead as daylight fermented in the early sky. Rand silently led the way down the winding path, leaving SG-1 to clump together instinctively. They watched their surroundings carefully—almost as carefully as the man on their point. Two hours down the trail, Daniel's eyes narrowed marginally. "Huh."

Teal'c rocked his head perceptibly as he raised his staff weapon to avoid a large root, slinking onto the path. "You are concerned about something Daniel Jackson?" Daniel pushed his boonie hat back slightly and patted at the moisture on his brow.

"Well, not concerned so much as curious." Sam's right eyebrow brushed upward.

"About what?" Daniel's mouth twitched. "About how old would you guess Kyle is?"

Sam rolled her eyebrows and huffed. "God, I thought I was the only one. He looks twenty. Maybe twenty five, but… that makes no sense."

Teal'c's face cast itself into measured surprise. "Indeed." Kyle paused ahead; they stopped and watched. A few moments later, he turned and approached.

"Break, Sam?"

She nodded. "Five on the ground."

They pulled canteens and dropped on a cluster of purple rocks beside the path. Teal'c rested on his staff. Sam perched on a stone, crouched on one leg, the other supporting her weight. Daniel started to sit on a small boulder but faltered and slid to the ground with his back resting against the rock. "Well, I guess this works too." Kyle sat indian style and looked up with a deep breath.

Teal'c shifted his weight, further to his weapon. "Are you jaffa?" Kyle looked down and looked over his glasses.

"Was that directed at me?" Teal'c crossed his arms. "Right. No, human. Why do you ask?"

Daniel downed a sip from his canteen. "How old are you?"

Kyle chuckled wryly. "Ah. Remember, I told you I have healing abilities. So… think Tok'ra; I'm older than I look. A bit, at least."

Sam lifted her cap and scrubbed her fingers back through her hair, her face showing amused curiosity. "So, that would mean you're old enough to vote, right?" Kyle sputtered on his water. "Cute, Sam. Very cute. Okay, you got me: Captain Babyface. I'm thirty." He sighed resignedly. "I'm just glad that…" The slight smile dropped from his face and his eyes narrowed.

Sam snapped into combat mode. "What is it?"

Kyle's jaw set. "Something's up." Teal'c spun his staff weapon into a generic ready posture and Daniel drew one of his Berettas. Kyle rose onto the balls of his feet as the soft murmur of forest sounds died off, leaving an eerie peace in its place. Sam slid down her boulder and crouched, the circle of stones becoming a crude garrison.

"Daniel!" A high whistle sliced the air in the wake of Kyle's exclamation. A tan, wooden missile pitched its way toward the archaeologist. Fortunately, Rand's reaction had been faster than the bolt. He pushed off the rock in front of him and rolled backward, diving toward Jackson with amazing speed. He impacted Daniel at nearly a right angle, his left arm catching him mid-chest.

Daniel puffed a solid, "Oof," as Kyle's momentum rolled him in a lateral slide off the rock. Together, they careened over the crest of the rock and landed hard on the other side. The dart shattered against violet rock on a patch that had, only the slightest instant earlier, been the resting place of Daniel Jackson's neck; though, not before cutting a gash in Kyle's shoulder as the pair bounded away. A heavy mist of blood sprayed a cloud into the air that condensed on the boulder, pasting the wood fragments to the surface. Unlike their colleagues, Teal'c and Carter executed perfect combat rolls and assumed cover without incident. Whistles flooded the area with sound and a violent hail of crossbow bolts peppered the area, their fragments impregnating them with splinters. Vague silhouettes darted between the trees as Sam and Teal'c returned fire. Carter stared down the barrel of her P90, taking aimed marksman shots and Teal'c fired his from the shouldered position, for greater control. Rapid bursts from Teal'c's staff weapon were aimed at the ground beyond the attackers. The shots baked the clay in the soil into an impure ceramic, blasting the area with whirling pottery daggers that ripped through trees and underbrush; the heat from the blasts weakly ignited the nettles and grass, sending thin puffs of woody smoke into the air.

Daniel pulled himself into a kneeling position and began firing. Kyle released his P90 and drew his zat, firing with his one good arm. Unfortunately by then, bolts began assailing them from a widening arc. Each of them felled an increasing number of the anonymous attackers, but the pitch of the fight increased despite their efforts. The silhouettes were holding back but soon, they were surrounded. The hail stopped more quickly than it had begun. The shadows became men, stepping from behind the pine trunks, weapons steadily trained. They were dressed in traditional Norse warrior garb: long hair, natural-colored tunics, high boots and metal skullcaps. They were brandishing angry crossbows, blowguns of some design and livid expressions. Seeing their position, they raised their weapons in surrender. Daniel clambered to his feet and cleared his throat. "We're peaceful ex…" Daniel was never allowed to finish. Wordlessly, four men raised their blowguns and fired. Each dart found it's target, and all four of them crumpled to the ground.


	6. Time To Impovise

As his brain shed its drug-induced cocoon, the first thing that he noticed was the intense, damp smell of must and mold. After a lifetime of living with allergies, Daniel had learned to perform a kind of color botany on different smells—sort of a representation of their source; if he had to guess, he would have to call this one… an ugly, dark green—the smell of neglect and decay. His eyes fluttered open. The room was large and damp. Three walls were made of dark, quarried stone blocks caked with patches of lime where water had seeped through; the fourth was a grating of heavy metal bars between them and a torch lit stone corridor beyond. The firelight danced on the far wall greedily. Daniel was seated on the spongy dirt (maybe more than dirt—_Don't go there Daniel._) floor, slumped against the damp wall; his wrists were shackled loosely above his head on cuffs hung from the dark ceiling by a heavy chain. Daniel's body was riddled with a teeming ache, as though his skeleton had been disassembled and then not put back together quite right.

All four of them were similarly cuffed and lit by strips of ghostly light from the hall, their faces were all dunked in heavy shadows that lived near the walls; only their eyes and legs visible. They had been relieved of their weapons and packs but their vests remained.

Teal'c turned, the chain clinking slightly as he tried it. "Are you well, Daniel Jackson?"

Daniel groaned softly. "I've been better, but I'm okay. I feel like I just fell off the top of a two story building."

Sam shifted her weight, her cool eyes running over him with concern. "All of us are a little dazed, but that's it. Could that tranquilizer be affecting you more strongly?"

Kyle grumbled with hooded eyes. "That would be my fault. Sorry, Daniel. I'll call the concierge and have him send down the masseuse."

Daniel chuckled lightly and winced gently at the vibration. Teal'c blinked in humor; Sam's eyes turned up a hairsbreadth—more in elation than anything else. Daniel would let them know if anything was really wrong—hopefully. Instead, he sighed easily.

"Don't be sorry. I would probably be dead if you hadn't grabbed me. Thank you." Kyle bent his wrist down and tipped a sloppy two-fingered salute.

"Any time, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel blinked languidly. "How's the arm, by the way?"

Rand's eye twitched in a partially suppressed wince. "Oh, you know. Just a little scratch."

Sam shot Daniel a disbelieving, albeit amused look. Teal'c's eyebrows glided sideways. Even in the surreal light and harsh shadows of the bars, the flecks of dried blood on his jacket and the gigantic sanguine stain glistening on his shoulder plainly branded him a liar. He closed his eyes and reclined against the wall, exhaling deeply.

"I'm surprised they've left us alone this long," Daniel mused. Sam had turned her head to watch the hall; she looked over, her gaze obscured by her own arm.

"They didn't. We had company before you woke up."

Daniel furrowed his eyebrows. "What did they say?"

Teal'c leaned forward against his bonds, trying to see farther down the hall. "We were unable to understand him. However, he was most agitated." Several minutes later, Kyle huffed and sat up, flexing his shoulder inertly against the restraints.

Sam flicked an eyebrow. "Better, sir?"

Rand glared and then nodded. "Yeah. That kinda… hurt." He paused briefly. "…And don't 'sir' me. There has to be a rule against that somewhere." A conspiratorial grin spread across Daniel's face.

"So when do they finally promote Sam?" The Major's face split into an exasperated mess, a small vein visibly bulging from her forehead as she leaned forward.

"Daniel!"

Teal'c raised an eyebrow and Kyle simply chuckled. "Who said she gets promoted?"

Daniel rocked his head slightly. "Well, you said you weren't used to outranking her. Besides, you said you couldn't really do any damage. Since we're not exactly going anywhere soon, I figured it couldn't hurt to ask."

"Within reason, Daniel," Sam shot.

"There are numerous possibilities, Daniel Jackson. It is not also possible that Major Carter was simply retired from duty when first we meet," asked Teal'c.

Sam simply shrugged and twitched the corner of her eye—the last expression of the frustrated and wholly burnt out. Kyle slumped back against the wall and sighed.

"Has not your injury healed, Captain Rand," Teal'c inquired.

"Mmhm," he mumbled. "I just need to re-charge some. That's not exactly an easy trick."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "That has to take a lot of energy."

Kyle nodded limply. "I'd kill for a power bar right about now. Then again, bottomed blood sugar beats bleeding out, so I'll try and look on the bright side." His eyes flickered open, white orbs peering from the shadows. "Speaking of rank. How long have you been a major, Sam?" Her face plied from exhaustion into a shade of bemusement, visible even in the swath of shadow in which she was bathed.

"You don't know?"

Rolling his eyes he whined, "No, I don't know every little detail of your service record off the top of my head. Besides, I suck with dates. Just curious is all."

"Almost five years," she replied. After a moment, she bit her lower lip. "I'm curious about something myself. Mind if I ask?"

His head lolled loosely on his shoulders, his voice was almost a whisper. "Shoot." She pursed her lips slightly.

"How long have you been a captain?"

He took a deep breath. "This again? What the heck; three years and change." Daniel narrowed his eyes inquisitively. Teal'c cocked his head and Sam's face looked apoplectic.

"No offence, but how in the world does a twenty-seven year old make captain?" Rand gave her a look that was definitely sarcastic, but with a dark undertone; it was a look that, over the years, she had seen on Colonel O'Neill's face more than once (and all too recently)—usually when he was downplaying something difficult and life threatening by being a sarcastic SOB.

"My undeniable charm perhaps?" He shrugged and glared softly, grinding in each word. "Maybe the general wanted a sanctimonious smart-ass in the upper operational ranks and I was the only one in striking distance; I dunno."

She saw through the quip and her eyes veiled in bitter understanding. Very fast military advancement meant very unpleasant circumstances—almost definitely in combat. She knew first hand that in those situations, there were only two simple alternatives: shine… or die. More than likely it meant that he had been put in any number of difficult positions; had seen and survived things far beyond his years and, more than likely, had the ribbons to back up that assessment. He just did his job: he didn't think his rank was anything to brag about and didn't think she should be worried about hers. She drew up her legs slightly and looked down. "I'm sorry, Kyle. I didn't mean to…"

He flashed a smile, his face becoming gentle. "It was a fair question. Don't sweat it, ma'am." His eyes slid shut and his breathing evened out, seemingly in sleep.

Daniel threw up a wry smile and spoke softly. "Well, on the up side, there are advantages to looking young: he probably gets discounts at movie theaters."

Teal'c inclined his head dispassionately. "However, he likely experiences difficulty in purchasing alcoholic beverages." Sam giggled. Daniel attempted to shrug while suppressing a laugh.

"Well, would also be a draw back not being able to rent a car."

"I swear I don't know why I hang out with you people," Kyle sneered, his eyes still shut.

"Probably so you can sit at the bar at O'Malley's," Sam conned.

Rand opened his eyes to slits. "You know, I would lay it on but my mom always told me to be nice to the elderly." Sam narrowed her eyes, Daniel winced and Teal'c bared a frightening grin. The irony of which wasn't lost on Kyle.

"Now that we've managed to amuse the oldest person in the room, I think I'm ready to escape."

Sam's eyes rose curiously. "Just like that? It's just that, you know, we seem to be in a bit of a bind," she said shaking her cuffs demonstrably.

He looked over to Daniel and smiled conspiratorially. "Daniel, do you have a spare pair of glasses?"

The archaeologist blinked. "Sure; in my vest. Why?"

"Look right at me," Kyle offered. Daniel complied, curious. A moment later, his glasses glided off his face and moved in a straight line. At a walking pace, the eyewear flew past gaped mouths, across the cell to Kyle's raised hands. He grasped the glasses and twisted the metal frame around, in the process popping out the lenses, sending them scattering around where he sat. Bringing the earpieces close together, he fingered them into the lock of the wet, rusty cuffs, working gently. After a few seconds, a loud click echoed in the cold cell and his hands dropped.

Sam nodded. "Nice work."

"Thanks. Next show's at six," he said staggering to his feet. He moved over and used the makeshift lock pick to free Teal'c and Sam. Teal'c rushed to look down the hall and Sam stood over them as Kyle went to pick Daniel free.

Teal'c crouched at the bars and stuck his hand through them, his fingers spread experimentally. "There is no air circulation; we appear to be deep underground. How shall we make our escape?"

Daniel's cuffs clicked and fell away. He stood shakily and, with Kyle supporting him, took back his creatively shaped frames. He examined them for a moment, turning them over. Finally he sighed and tossed them over his shoulder and reached into his vest, withdrawing a fresh pair. "Yeah, not that I'm not glad to have step one out of the way but… what now?" Kyle walked to the bars; resting both hands on them he peered down the dimly lit corridor.

"That's a good question," he said as he inspected the lock.

Sam had been going through her vest in the meantime. "I have a mini first-aid kit, a sewing kit, two spare P90 clips, some grease paint, a monocular and sunglasses. Same as everyone else." She huffed and joined the others at the bars. "Unless Kyle can bend the bars, I don't see this stuff helping us," she said half-joking. With a pause, she looked at him expectantly. He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows playfully before shaking his head.

"Although…" He cocked his head to the side and looked back to her. "Someone's coming. I give it five minutes."

She creased her face. "Can you tell who?"

He shook his head. "I can only tell apart people I know." He tapped Teal'c's elbow while turning around. "We need to snag a guide," he said shooting Sam a glance.

She nodded curtly, looking at the door. "We lure our friend in here. The problem is still that door," she said with a point at the barrier. The cell was secured with a heavy, cased lock. Inside was a heavy pinned tumbler but the bolt was held in place with a massive sprung hasp; not anything that would be handled with makeshift picks. Kyle ground his jaw and glanced over at Daniel's discarded frames. His eyes wandered back over to Sam.

"If I can hold open the hasp, can you pick that lock?" She looked over at the lock and nodded.

"Sure. I don't suppose you can tell me how you're going to do that?"

He shook his head. "Nah. It would take too long and totally kill the magic." He turned and held out his hand behind him; the frames snapped from their place in the far corner into his palm and he passed them to her.

She accepted them with a slight cock of her head and flaring of her eyebrows. "O-kay." Daniel and Teal'c exchanged weary glances as they went to work. Sam reached around and began picking the lock, perched on her toes at the limit of her reach. Kyle stood next to her and reached around, nearly touching the lock hasp, which popped up with a creak. Finally, the lock clicked and the door swung open, sending them tumbling forward. Teal'c quickly ran forward and grabbed two torches burning on the wall. Passing one to Daniel, they quickly helped Sam and Kyle to their feet. They clambered back into the cell with Daniel and Teal'c quickly dousing the torches on the damp walls. The rich blackness completely enveloped them as they slid to the farthest recesses of the cell; the only sound heard was their collective breath.

Finally after a handful of moments, a quiet tapping and a warm glow began to fill the corridor. The footsteps became louder until a man came into view. He was wearing a tan tunic and dark leather boots and gloves. The man had a well-cropped brown beard, long braided hair and blue, watery eyes. He was holding a large torch, its flames leaping upward; bright and flowing like an energetic liquid. As he found the open cell door he halted abruptly. His face wrinkled in alarm, but a glance at the empty torch sconces seemed to allay his fear and invoke his curiosity. He turned to the cell door and waved his torch around, peering cautiously into the dank hovel. He held the light before him as he stepped in slowly, his heels clicking hollowly on the floor as it changed from stone to dirt. The instant his torched waved away, Teal'c swooped in quickly and silently snatching him up, like a great wave. In a blink, the man had dropped his still burning torch onto the ground and Teal'c effortlessly pressed him hard to the wall by a grip of his tunic a full meter off the ground. The man looked incensed but swarmed with fear. The jaffa narrowed his gaze in the nearly extinct orange light and spoke with an almost gentle softness. "We require your assistance."


	7. Jail Break

The man straightened his back stiffly. Daniel lifted the fallen torch and held it to his face, causing the light to reflect strongly off his glasses. Daniel opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a groan. This procedure repeated a number of times, Daniel becoming more frustrated with each attempt. Finally, he huffed and reached out his free hand and covered the man's mouth. Unfortunately, the man's eyes rolled back and he didn't get any farther than, "My name is Dan-," before the man's eyes fluttered and shut. He'd passed out. With a sigh, Daniel shot a wary glance at Teal'c who flicked an eyebrow in bemusement, loosening his grip on the man's throat. Daniel pulled up a corner of his mouth and nodded. Teal'c lowered the man to the ground, though he kept his hand to the man's chest, pinning him still to the wall as his eyes flickered open. Daniel gestured to the jaffa and spoke slowly. "This is Teal'c." He pointed to himself and each other person in turn. "My name is Doctor Daniel Jackson. This is Major Samantha Carter and Captain Kyle Rand. Can you understand me?"

Daniel slowly withdrew his hand, waiting for an answer. Finally, the man's shuddering abated and he nodded several times, becoming surer of the motion each time. Daniel's eyes crinkled in relaxed satisfaction. "Good. We don't want to hurt you but we do need to leave. Right now." Daniel gestured to Teal'c who released him completely, taking a step back. The man seemed to unwind himself from a striking posture.

He seemed to breathe shallowly, almost hissing as he spoke. "You… won't kill me?"

Daniel shook his head and spoke kindly. "No. We just want to leave."

The man narrowed his eyes with practiced suspicion, "I don't understand… Aren't you invaders? Do you not seek the yggdrasil?"

Daniel's eyes darted around to his companions. "Well, we're not invaders. We just need to do something here. Then, we'll leave."

The man swallowed hard. "Only those with the authority of the gods can approach. We are sworn to repel all other invaders."

Daniel tilted his head gently to the side. "Why exactly?"

The man relaxed a heavy breath. "Thor charged our people long ago to protect the world-tree at all cost. He told us that many would try and take that which belonged to him. He said that we must aid in them."

Daniel wrinkled his eyebrows, passing a curious look to the others. He held up a finger and pressed his eyes shut. "Just… one minute." Daniel backed up and motioned to the others who gathered around him. Teal'c took a few steps back and made a corner turn, putting his ear to the others but still watching their friend. Daniel cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up. "Does this strike anyone else as a little odd?"

Sam crossed her arms. "Thor asking people like this to guard technology? Yeah." She shot Kyle an inquiring glance. "Did this happen the last time you were here?"

He crossed his arms and sighed. "No. This doesn't add up at all." He scratched his chin and gestured with his hands. "The plexus has loads of passive security on it and that's more than enough on it's own."

Daniel's eyes darted around. "Well, here's a thought: maybe it's something they've taken upon themselves. It could be that this… whatever-you-want-to-call-it has been such a big part of their culture so long that they've developed an original mythology around it. It's not unheard of."

Sam rocked her head and shrugged. "Okay. Well, we'll just need to get out as quietly as possible." The circle unfolded and Sam turned to the man, still cowering under Teal'c's stern gaze. "We need the things you took from us and a way out. Can you help us?" The man seemed to be speaking to himself silently, looking down with his eyes shuddering around in a non-descript pattern before he finally voiced words.

"But… if I allow you to go… Thor will strike me down."

Kyle took a step forward, resting two fingers on Sam's shoulder. She looked over and stepped to the side. Kyle looked wearily at the man. "Do you have a name?" He nodded vigorously. "Egan." Kyle smiled kindly. "Egan, I think I can put your mind at ease. Don't be afraid." Kyle took a deep breath and held his hands out and a few inches apart. After a brief moment of silence, the palms of his hands began to glow and blue bolts of electricity shot between them, adding a harsh indigo light to the dim cell. A moment later, the glow subsided and Kyle lowered his hands.

Egan's eyes went wide and he nodded curtly. "I will take you where you need to go." Sam and Teal'c claimed the discarded torches from the corner and re-lit them from Daniel's.

Egan led them down a series of dank, narrow corridors with Teal'c and Kyle close behind with Sam and Daniel in the rear. Teal'c kept a watchful eye on the man leading them, looking for any sign of deception or violence. He heard a quiet grumble from the man at his side. "Are you well Kyle Rand?"

"Hm?" He heard the object of his query turn his head slightly before returning it to the front. "Yeah, don't worry about me. This just isn't the vacation I had in mind."

Teal'c's curiosity was aroused. "Vacation?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. I was supposed to have two weeks of down time. Like that ever happens."

Teal'c's mouth turned upward. "Indeed. Did you have any arrangements made?"

"I was hoping to make it to this place I have in California. I figured a week and a half of surfing, and a few days back in the Springs. Right," he said smacking his lips.

Teal'c smiled tautly. "That sounds worthwhile. I one day hope to have a similar opportunity."

Kyle chortled. "Surfing?"

Teal'c had long ago learned to recognize sarcasm as the disguised humor it was. He accepted the tacit invitation to elaborate and relaxed his face further, noting that Kyle Rand, while watching Egan carefully as he was, was passing him an occasional glance. "While that is… intriguing, I was referring to the opportunity to enjoy time outside the SGC." There was a slight change in the pattern of sounds behind him. The balance of Daniel Jackson's gait had changed at his statement and Major Carter's voice floated up to him.

"Teal'c? What are you saying?"

He chanced a glance over his shoulder and found a hopefully bemused smile on her face and a shocked grin on Daniel Jackson. "If I am welcome, I believe I may wish to establish myself outside the confines of the SGC." They turned a corner, bringing them into a wider section of corridor made from lighter tan stone. The torchlight no longer reached the ceiling and, combined with the reflection from the lighter walls, cast their features in stark shadows while accenting skin tone in an almost statuesque manner. Teal'c returned his attention forward.

"Teal'c, not that I'm trying to discourage you, but I though you didn't want to do that… that you always intended to return to Chulak someday," Daniel Jackson inquired.

Teal'c permitted himself a look of hopeful satisfaction. Truthfully, he had been considering this for sometime, but had not yet shared his intentions. "I am jaffa; I will always stand with my people. However… contrary to my intentions, your world has become my home. I have no shame of this."

They came to a halt before a heavy wooden door, blackened with age. Major Carter, though, proceeded forward several additional steps before turning back around. He pivoted and met her gaze, greatly upturned due to their height difference. "After all you've done for Earth, we should be so lucky to have you." Teal'c bent deeply at the waist, his trepidation at broaching the subject washed away. Straightening himself, Daniel Jackson merely smiled and clapped him lightly on the shoulder; Captain Rand's face was attentive, but with a small smile of approval.

"I'll teach you to surf. Or, snowboard if you stay in Colorado all the time. It's better than fishing—I swear."

Daniel smirked and Sam tried to hide a sad smile by rubbing her face. Daniel noticed and quickly stepped up beside Egan. "So, where are we?"

He glanced at the door and then looked around the room. "This is where your belongings are stored. I haven't the ken of how to open the door, though." Daniel crossed his arms and scrutinized the door. It was identifiable as such only by it's difference from the walls surrounding it. The door was carved from a solid piece of timber, had no discernable hinges and no handle or keyhole of any kind.

Daniel huffed. "Egan, have you ever seen this door being opened?"

Egan nodded. "Yes; today, in fact, when your items were interred. I know only that it has to do with the runes." He gestured to the large space opposite the door. Engraved in tan marble on the floor was a giant ring nearly the size of a stargate. The ring was sectored, with each segment containing a small group of runes; at the center was a large hammer emblem. The party approached the circle cautiously. Teal'c knelt on the outside of the ring and ran a finger along the edge of a rune block.

"These symbols are all raised slightly." He rubbed his fingers together as he rose. "Major Carter?" She approached and ran a finger over his, bringing it up close to her eyes for inspection. She rubbed it between her fingers and sniffed, making a face.

"It smells like some kind of oil. Maybe a lubricant." Kyle walked the perimeter slowly inspecting the object and came to Sam, sampling the substance himself.

"Or, hydraulic fluid."

She nodded. "That would make sense." She glanced at the floor again. "Daniel, can you read these runes?"

Daniel waved his torch over several. "Sure. Mostly it looks like a list of figures from Norse mythology." He paused and waved a finger at Sam. "You're thinking of Marduk's ziggurat."

Sam's eyebrows flared. "Exactly. We just need to figure out what the combination is."

Daniel examined each rune carefully. "Got it." He looked up and gestured with his torch. "Okay, there are two clans of good gods in Norse myth and most of these runes represent them. However, the god Loki and his three children were enemies of the gods and essentially evil." He gently rested his foot on the rune in front of him, and then stepped forward with all his weight. The rune slid down a fraction of an inch slowly. Daniel stepped off and it rose again. "Um, okay, it looks like we'll need to work together." Daniel looked around and motioned to the group as he led them around the circle, pointing as they went. "Kyle stand here, Sam stand here, Teal'c here." Each stood on their appointed rune and Daniel returned to the one he had been on previously. As he stepped onto it, the massive door silently glided open and came to rest. Daniel looked to Egan, noting his carefully impressed expression. "Egan, can you see if there's a lock or something to hold that door open?" Egan walked over and knelt at the edge of the door, dropping a heavy iron stake into a socket on the ground. It slid in with a metallic gurgling before emitting a hollow THUNK after it fell several inches. Each stepped off and approached the dark hole now opened in the wall.

Egan walked in ahead of them, lighting flame pits set in corners of a large room. As they each began to burn, polished metal mirrors in the ceiling bounced the light around to help illuminate the room. They placed their torches in wall sconces and turned to face the brightened room. Daniel's eyebrows shot upward. "Whoa. Okay, so I think we can officially put these people down as being a little out of bounds as far as Norse culture is concerned." Sam and Teal'c's eyes widened slightly.

Kyle blinked. "Holy crap. Who's the decorator, Vlad the Impaler?"

Daniel looked around, surveying the room carefully. "That actually might be a fair guess."

The walls of the room were decorated with weapons of every sort: swords, staves, shields, helms, and energy weapons of a dozen different kinds. They seemed to be divided into partitions, with clusters of similar weapons each occupying a distinct section of wall, with runes cut within each group; some groups had dusty skulls set into the walls along with the other things. Egan was standing near the center of the room, watching their reaction sheepishly. Their packs were in a pile off to the far right, with their weapons newly tacked to the wall by wooden pegs. They began re-assembling their gear and checking their weapons.

Sam clipped her P90 to its sling and began walking around a blackened hemisphere cut into the floor. "Egan, what's this for?"

Egan stepped up beside her. "Your other belongings would have been burned here."

Sam looked up and noted a darkened, black hole in the ceiling that seemed to act as a chimney.

Teal'c had begun wandering slowly, perusing the items mounted, presumably, as trophies; his staff weapon and heavy footsteps clicking heavily with each step. "Staff weapons… zat'nikatels… Tollen hand weapons… TERs… and many others I do not recognize." Kyle slipped his zat into its holster and came up beside him.

"Efanti disruptors." Teal'c turned his head and cocked an eyebrow. Kyle shrugged. "You haven't met them yet." He jerked his head at Egan, looking crestfallen near the door. Sam followed with a glance and met his eyes. "How about we go to work, ma'am?" She nodded.

Daniel took a heavy breath, looking at their helper. "Sounds good to me." The four of them walked over to the waiting Egan. Daniel folded his arms across his chest. "Egan… correct me if I'm wrong, but you don't seem to approve of this," he said looking around broadly.

Egan looked down, gripped the collar of his tunic and let his elbows dangle, seeming to form a careful explanation. "Doctor Jackson… no one enjoys this task. These relics are here to remind us of the seriousness of the undertaking. Kefal says that if it were a simple or easy thing for us to do, then there would be something wrong with us. I must believe that he does not know who you are."

Sam wrinkled her nose slightly. "Egan, who is Kefal? Is he your leader?"

Egan dropped his hands. "His voice is strong among our people, and he leads us in this task but not in all matters."

Kyle shifted his weight and cleared his throat. "Egan, you don't need to do this. Thor wouldn't ask you because what you guard has defenses of it's own; defenses built by," he winced slightly, "the gods."

Daniel nodded his agreement. "You can stop this. You and your people don't need to do this anymore."

Egan stared at the ground for a moment, his forehead creased in thought. "Since the time Kefal came to us, he has helped us in many ways and he has always been honorable. I do not know if my people will be willing to go against his word. I do not know if I am."

Teal'c inclined his head. "If he is indeed honorable then perhaps your people need only discuss the situation. If you require information, we can provide it."

Egan nodded with a thin smile and spoke with a slightly scratched voice. "I will consider your words. For now, you must leave before your escape is discovered. I do not know how long you have. Come, this way."

They followed him out the door, lifting the stake and allowing the huge wooden plug to come to rest flush against the wall. Their torches provided bare lighting, but Egan seemed to know where he was going. Even so, they made a tactical advance with weapons drawn and Teal'c moving backwards almost the entire time. The stone walls narrowed severely forcing them to walk single file and the walls themselves changed from glassy tan blocks back to the quarried gray stone of their cell. As they went, the hollow footfalls soon became rougher as the floor became more cobbled. Soon, their footsteps sounded with grinding scrapes as the floor added a layer of coarse grit. Finally, Egan slowed and held his hand out.

Sam sniffed and whispered. "Fresh air."

Egan nodded with his head turned as if listening ahead. "Yes. We are near your exit."

He rested his foot on a markedly raised stone on the left edge of the passage. "Douse your torches. I can re-light my own once you are away." One by one, they did as they were asked, sending the passage into a soundless, empty darkness. Only faint green afterimages, tricks of eyes deprived of light, played across their vision. After a moment, those too faded. A bit of scratching ahead, followed by the distinctive sound of stone grinding on stone. Slowly, a sliver of starlit sky sliced through the black ahead of them and began to widen, silhouetting each of them to the eyes of the one behind them. A peaceful buzz-chirping sound filled the air and a soft, cool breeze blew in the passage, knocking pine boughs around the frame of sky. As their eyes adjusted they could see that they were in an area surrounded by trees, as the musky, not-quite-pine scent confirmed. Egan moved forward quietly, leading them silently into a tiny clearing before the passageway. It was set into a large moss-covered stone wall that shot several stories into the sky and receded at angles to the left and right. Egan whispered at a nearly inaudible volume. "Take your leave quickly. Thor go with you."

Sam's eyes flitted between him and a field, just visible in the blue moonlight. "Thank you, for everything. Egan, if your people want to talk, we should arrange for somewhere to meet on our way back."

"That will not be necessary," a booming authoritarian voice called from the blackness, "for we are already here." Dozens of torches flared to light, illuminating twenty or more men brandishing crossbows, many dressed similarly to Egan, though all lacking his slight presence. The five of them each snapped up a weapon to a ready position. "Egan, I am disappointed. I thought you were going to go home and rest from today's battle with the etans. Instead you turn them loose." A tall man with chiseled features and long gray hair stepped from the group, a heavy sword at his side.

Egan rose to his full height and stepped forward, his posture taking on a comfortable one of dignity and authority. "Kefal, these are not etans. They wield the power of Thor and come in His name. My only regret is that I did not learn this sooner." Kefal's eyes narrowed and he stepped toward them, his boots crunching the pine needles loudly. Finally, he stepped an arm's length from the group.

"Egan, you do not know what I do about these people, nor do you know what they are. You have been deceived."

Sam straightened her back and glared down the barrel of her weapon. "My God. He's goa'uld."


	8. Eating Crow

Kyle narrowed his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek as he curled his weapon closer to his body. "There's something wrong with him, Sam."

Daniel flicked his eyes suspiciously. "Well, I'd say that's a pretty universal goa'uld trait, wouldn't you? Care to be more specific?"

Kyle's eye sighted down the barrel and twitched slightly. "Teal'c, you sensing the symbiote?"

The warrior balanced his staff weapon lightly on his fingertips. "Indeed."

Rand ground his jaw. "That's the problem. I'm not."

Kefal steeled his eyes and sneered, stepping fully into the torchlight with a finger protruding from a raised fist, ready to order a strike at the slightest provocation. His blue-gray eyes shone in the glare, but were conspicuously normal. "I am no longer possessed by your kind and I will not allow you the slightest hold on this place," he said nearly spitting the words. He stalked his way around the tight group, coming to a halt near Sam. Disgust flowed from his eyes as he stabbed a glance at Teal'c. "Your jaffa bears the mark of Apophis. What are you called, goa'uld?" Sam's eyes darted and her finger tightened around her trigger, nearly imperceptibly. "I'm not goa'uld. I was host to a Tok'ra." The loathing on his face washed away, leaving him with a blank expression. Slowly, it was replaced by patent confusion, setting off a wave of anxiety through the assembled troops. Apparently they weren't accustomed to hesitation on their leader's part.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

Near the end, one of the younger men watched as his section leader began to tremble slightly. Sweat ran down his face freely and his weapon began to unsteady in his increasingly pliant arms. His trembling turned to shuddering and sweat became visible as beads gathered between his fingers. It visibly slicked his palm against the wooden trigger of the bow. He and the other two less senior warriors, armed with swords, gathered around the bowman were passing glances between him and their quarry. Staring intently at the man nearest them, they had seen the shine in his eyes and realized this man… this creature was the object of everything they had been taught to fear. His nerves and the tone of Kefal's voice gave him tunnel vision; the only things he saw were Kefal's fist, and their section leader's trigger finger forming a single line in his sight. His nerves were tightly wound and he watched both with overt intensity. Apparently, he wasn't the only one. Kefal's hesitation and confusion had caused a ripple of disquiet through the throng of fighters. Kefal's hand dropped a fraction of its height before being righted; unfortunately, the damage was done. The man's section leader was so nervous that it made him jump, triggering the crossbow. It was what he and his section mates had been waiting for.

IIIIIIIIIIIIII

A thick burst of air blew through the nearby trees, bringing with it the falling cold of a frigid night. The collective mass of beings swayed in unison at the pressure of the blast and the torch flames stretched and roared lightly in protest at their deformation. Kefal's face wrinkled, perplexed and his raised hand wavered as he swayed. A dart shot from the dark. Kyle moved so quickly, that the air hissed. He swung his palm in front of his face and the dart froze, stalled from the invisible swat. The suspended projectile began it's short and harmless fall—but not before three men with swords charged him.

He moved with blurring speed, the air buzzing around him. He brought his leg up in a butterfly kick, sending the first attacker high into a ten-meter arc off into the shadows. He spun at the waist and rotated the other leg up into the second man's chest at a less oblique angle; it sent him skittering backward along the ground, violently pushing up a mound of pine needles in his path. He disappeared into the forest with a soft thud issuing from the distance. The third man charged in from the side. Kyle brought his leg down into forward stance and swept his hand out and in front of him. Without touching him the man hurtled backward and was pinned against a tree trunk. And there he stayed. It took a small sound for them to realize just how quickly it had all happened.

The stopped crossbow bolt clattered quietly against a stone as it met the forest floor. Teal'c repressed a grin of satisfaction as he relaxed the grip on his staff weapon. Major Carter allowed herself a satisfied smile as she stepped forward balefully; she met the stunned gaze of Kefal but remained silent. Daniel crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows high "We're not goa'uld. Just listen to what we have to say. It doesn't have to be like this—there's even a chance that we may be able to be friends." Kefal blinked and then nodded in understanding. Slowly, he brought his hand down, gesturing to his men, who lowered their weapons. He glanced nervously at his man, still pinned invisibly to the tree trunk. Sam turned to Kyle and gave him a rueful smile. "Let him go, Kyle." Rand relaxed, dropped into a casual posture and turned to meet her, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He returned a smirk. "Sure thing." With that, the flailing man slid down the trunk, loudly flaking off the bark as he went.

Kefal pinned Major Carter with a questioning gaze. "You were Tok'ra?" She slowly nodded her head. "I was host to Jolinar of Malkshor." His eyes closed slightly in concentration. When he spoke, it was with a combination of wistfulness and amazement. "I know this name." His eyes flicked open and landed on Teal'c. "Jaffa. You… do not serve Apophis?" Teal'c remained impassive. He had planted the end of his weapon into the ground and was leaning on it slightly. "No. I fight alongside these to battle the goa'uld."

"I sense no primta within you."

"You would not."

"How is that possible," Kefal asked, his brow wrinkling.

"The Tok'ra and Tau'ri have found a way for a few jaffa to survive without the aid of a symbiote." Kefal stared off in the distance, lost in thought, sorting through the few of the important details that he'd managed to absorb. "Egan. It seems that the young can yet teach the old." He nodded to the object of his comment before looking over the others, swallowing hard. "It seems that I owe to you an apology." He received several nods in return. He placed a hand on his chest. "I am Kefal." Daniel bowed his head slightly. "My name is Doctor Daniel Jackson, this is Teal'c, Major Samantha Carter and Captain Kyle Rand. We come from a planet called Earth." Daniel's eyebrows darted upward. "You might know it as Midgår—or Tau'ri." Kefal's eyes shot up. After a moment, the surprise subsided and he nodded slowly before turning around, seemingly taking in the sights and sounds night. In all likelihood, though, he was assimilating the last of these details. "It will be cold tonight and we have much to discuss. I would be pleased if you would be our guests." Daniel's eyes darted around quickly, before he plastered a diplomatic smile on his face. "I think we would like that."

Kefal nodded with a thin smile and turned to the gathered men who had relegated themselves to milling about the area and murmuring softly at this turn of events. He raised his hands for attention. They quickly quieted and gathered near him. "My friends. These are not the etans. I…" he licked his lips, "have led you against them in error. I must ask your forgiveness. These people hail from Midgår—they should have been welcomed in friendship, not bloodshed. I alone bear responsibility for this action." He turned slightly, Teal'c and Carter entering his field of vision. "I have much for which to atone." Teal'c raised an eyebrow. A murmur rose from the crowd that seemed to digest his statement. Several of the men took turns speaking to him individually, all ending with pleased or, at least satisfied expressions and most with friendly claps on the shoulder. When the last of them had his turn to speak to Kefal, he turned back to the modified SG-1. "I hope that you will allow me to make amends for the treatment you have received here. It would honor me if you would pass the night in my home; the drug you were given wears off quickly but its aftereffects can be most potent. In the morning you may resume your journey." Sam seemed to uncoil herself and allowed a small, but genuine smile. "Thanks. We appreciate it." A thin smile spread over his shadowed features. "Follow me. We should wait to speak at my home. Much of what we will discuss… my companions will not understand."

Kefal and his men led them through the forest silently for several minutes, the torches dimly illuminating a narrow path ahead. The light was an almost dangerous middle luminosity: it wasn't bright enough for them to see more than a few feet in front of them but too bright for their night vision to kick in. The result was a tightly clustered group huddled in a ball of warm, orange light. A few low branches swiped at their sleeves and crackled as they passed. They followed the route of the large wall until they met with a larger, well-traveled cobblestone road turning toward the wall's direction as their hosts dousing their torches. Daniel was in heaven. His jaw fell open and his feet kept moving by inertia alone.

From the dress, customs and language he'd deduced that these people were very much like middle ages Norse cultures from Earth—very typical of peoples transplanted by the Asgard. What he now saw placed them in a completely different context: the city was a snapshot of a medieval culture on the cusp of an industrial revolution. Ahead of them was a towering city gatehouse set into the massive, crenellated stone wall; the machined gate hinges showed signs of operation by massive gears, somewhere inside the gatehouse. Traveling into the city, they saw cobblestone lanes lined with street lamps, giving off a soft yellow glow. Dwellings and shops lined narrow side streets. The packed buildings were made from wood-framed stone with shingled roofs and high-quality glass for windows. Intermittently spaced standpipes along the streets appeared to be a form of fire hydrant. Armored guards in uniform patrolled the streets, tipping their helmets to Kefal as they passed. Daniel swiveled in place, watching as one of the guards receded from them and tuned a corner, whistling to himself. It looked (and certainly sounded) like the heels of the guard's boots were made from vulcanized rubber. The contrast was astounding. These, decidedly midevil, people had technology that had been new on Earth only a century and a half ago—or earlier.

Aside from the guards they passed only sparse foot traffic. The few people left outside seemed to be quickly streaming from shops and taverns toward homes and inns—away from the quickening wind and chill. They soon entered an upscale quarter of the city. The stone of the buildings here was lighter in hue, and the streets were paved with flat rock. After a few turns, they passed through a small park and were led up to large home and a set of wooden double doors guarded by what appeared to be private security. They greeted Kefal and one produced a key from his waist, unlocking and opening the doors for them. A burst of warmth poured down the short set of steps, underscoring how cold the night had rapidly become. They entered a large, but modestly appointed foyer. The interior of the home seemed to be done in sand-colored brick. A large, burgundy rug adorned the open area and gentle electric lighting came from fixtures just above eye level. The doors shut softly behind them and the interior air began warming their numbed skin, giving key extremities a burning sensation as they adapted to the temperature shift. A young woman in a simple green gown came down the corridor directly before them, to the gentle sound of clicking heels on stone. Her clothing swished around her has she silently lifted Kefal's heavy, brown cloak off his shoulders and collected his weapon as a few other servants entered.

"Thank you Ayala." He turned and placed a hand gently on her shoulder. "These are my guests. They will spend the night in the visitors' suite. Please treat any request of theirs as you would my own." She turned to them and smiled graciously. "If you prefer, your belongings can be taken to your rooms." Carter flicked her gaze around. Landing on Teal'c, she saw his eyes narrow by a degree. Sure enough, he wasn't about to endorse disarming again. She glanced at Daniel who pulled a corner of his mouth up sheepishly and shrugged. She bit her lower lip and flashed her eyebrows upward. "Okay… but, if it's all the same to you, we'll hold on to the zats." Kefal's eyebrows knit in confusion. She gestured to her sidearm holster by way of explanation. A ghost of a smile flitted around Kefal's face. "Ah. Of course." They allowed the servants to take their coats and the remainder of their gear. Their load lightened once again, Kefal gestured and they followed him slowly down a side hall to a comfortable drawing room. The walls were decorated with a few paintings of Norse mythological scenes, landscapes and some others without obvious identity. The center of the room had a broad arrangement of couches and chairs situated in a semicircle around a large, roaring fireplace. On the opposite wall—all four travelers rolled to a halt. Teal'c clenched his left fist and his right encircled his zat. "The armor of a Horus guard." The full battle plate was suspended on a frame as if being worn. The jeweled sapphire eyes of the helmet glistened, seemingly following them around the room as they moved.

"I keep him here to remind me of the choices I have made," Kefal said with a stretched voice as he sat. Gesturing to the furniture, he said, "Please, be seated." Each of them sank into the overstuffed furniture with varying expressions of relief. Teal'c even allowed himself a prolonged blink as he opted to lean back into the sofa in a rare reclining position. Daniel peaked his eyebrows and blew out a stream of breath as he settled on the cushion across from Kefal. They were all feeling the effects of the drug wearing off; they had been passable for a while but now it was something like a massive hangover. They certainly wouldn't be at their best very much longer. After a moment, he opened his eyes and shot a glance at Sam.

Sam leaned back, wrapping her arms around her waist. "Kefal, Egan sort of mentioned that you weren't from this world."

He nodded. "That is true. I come from a world called Bosara."

Teal'c peaked his hands, his elbows resting on his legs. "You were host to a goa'uld." Daniel's sharp eyes scanned over him as he tensed at the statement.

"I am still."

Sam's eyebrows shot skyward. "How is that possible?"

Kefal's mouth twitched slightly. "Perhaps it is best if I simply tell you everything."

Ayala glided into the room with a tray of steaming beverages. Without the energy to care much what it was, they each took them and muttered their thanks. Kefal watched over his shoulder, waiting for her to be out of earshot. He turned back when her heal clicks had receded, running his hands over a heavy pewter mug. After a moment he took a deep drink. Satisfied, they each pulled at their mugs. "I know that the Asgard are not gods. I make no effort to conceal my past, however, Thor's people have always been kind and generous to these beings, and these are good people—they are not yet ready to know and I try to respect their beliefs." They nodded and each seemed to wrap their hands around the warm mugs. He looked past them at the empty armor at their backs. Pulling his gaze back, he sighed, "On my home world, I was an engineer. I specialized in urban planning." He drained his mug and set it down on an end table to the side of his seat. "Then, Ra came." His eyes became distant and dark. "His ships came and demanded that we worship him and him alone. When we refused, he began destroying our civilization from above. We could do nothing. Soon, Ra placed a chapp'aii on our world and his jaffa began arriving."

"Those who were not killed or enslaved formed a resistance. I was among them. My knowledge of the ruined cities and technology made me useful. At first, I planned hidden bases, defenses and learned about what technology of theirs that we could capture. Soon, though, I began leading small strike forces of my own." Teal'c cocked his eyebrow slightly. Carter shifted further into her seat as he continued. "We were successful in some small ways. We were able to help feed and protect some survivors. We could not stand against Ra's forces at first but, as we began to capture weapons and equipment, we were able to keep control of some small areas of our world. These were small victories, but… we survived. Eventually, I was made a leader of the resistance." He smiled darkly and rubbed his hands together thoughtfully. "I was quite proud to learn that Ra himself considered me a nuisance. However, Ra soon came to put an end to us once and for all. One day we were discovered and I was captured. I was brought before him for punishment. I assumed that I would simply be murdered," he said with a soft sigh, "I only wish it were so. I was made to kneel before him—I was preparing myself for his ribbon device when he smiled, and a man was brought out on a stretcher. I recognized him as Lord Mehen."

Daniel's eyebrows shot up. "According to the Book of the Dead, he was supposed to be one of Ra's guardians."

Kefal nodded. "Yes. Mehen is one of Ra's greatest under lords. I recognized him because I had wounded him myself several days previous— fatally, I had thought. After all, I had shot him in the head. Apparently, I damaged the brain of Mehen's host but missed the goa'uld himself. He was injured to the point where the sarcophagus could merely sustain his life, not restore him. He required a new host. Ra thought it fitting that I be selected for this task."

Carter pursed her lips slightly and nodded. "How long ago was this?"

Kefal sighed, rolling his eyes upward. "After the first hundred years, I stopped trying keeping track."

Teal'c pressed his palms together. "How is it that you came to live among these people?"

Kefal's eyes tracked downward. "Asgard technology is greatly sought by the goa'uld. Stories of a great repository of their technology are traded freely and… feared greatly. It is said that this repository is the largest such collection outside of Asgard space."

Sam's eyes narrowed as she sipped on her mug. She shifted forward slightly. "This planet?"

Kefal nodded. "Yes. For the longest time, far longer than I have been his host, Mehen was obsessed with finding this place. He collected scattered clues from various travelers, merchants and storytellers. Sometimes he paid for information; sometimes he traded; sometimes… he used other means." His face paled and turned downward. He ran his fingers through his hair. Daniel's eyebrows knit and he shot a glance at Sam and Teal'c. They both frowned. Teal'c intertwined his fingers stiffly and Carter bit her lip, both waiting for him to continue. "There was this old man—" he said above the barest whisper, "—a man of lore on a primitive world under the domain of Heru-ur. I still remember the look in his eyes… the sound of his voice as Mehan tortured him with my own hands. In the end, he got what he wanted: the symbols for this world."

Daniel exhaled softly, his eyes arching softly. "So, what happened when Mehan finally got here?"

Kefal's mouth twitched slightly. "He did not come immediately. It was some time before Mehan had prepared for his journey here."

Sam crossed her arms across her lap. "Prepare how?"

Kefal crossed his legs and leaned back on the couch. "Mehan studied the remains of an Asgard obelisk, seeking a way to shield himself from detection. He believed it was the key to gaining access to the Yggdrasil."

Sam peaked her eyebrows. "Was he able to do that?"

Kefal nodded slowly. "He was able to escape detection." He wrung his hands and twisted his mouth, spending a moment in quiet deliberation. "The jaffa he brought escorted him to the Bifrost Bridge and died soon after their primtas were destroyed. Mehan managed to get far before he was silenced. You must understand: someday, I fear, another goa'uld will learn more and succeed where he failed. I cannot allow that to happen."

Daniel's eyes rolled up and down, taking in the man's posture. "We understand. Believe me, we understand. We have to ask though… what happened to Mehan?"

"I remember a large, white chamber. Slowly, I began to hear my own thoughts again. After many hours, I was transported outside and by then Mehan was asleep. He has slept ever since."

Sam cocked her head slightly to the side. "You still have access to his memories?"

Kefal nodded and smiled thinly. "Yes. He also grants me good health and continues to extended my life."

Daniel pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Now I understand why the goa'uld are so afraid of this place." Sam shot him a glance, flaring her eyebrows and nodding.

"Yeah. Freeing a host is one thing. Turning the goa'uld into the slave… that's something else."

Teal'c's eyebrows climbed high. "Indeed. Such ability would pose a significant threat to any goa'uld attempting to enter the structure. It would also dissuade others from attempting the same."

Kefal nodded. "Yes. Mehan was aware of the risk. But, he was arrogant enough to think that this place was like the others he had studied. He thought himself superior to the task. And… the thought of gaining the power to overthrow the Supreme System Lord was irresistible."

Sam rocked her head from side to side. "Why did you decide to stay here?"

The corners of Kefal's mouth pulled upward and his eyes grew sad. "I had nowhere else to go, Major." He shifted in his seat. "With access to my knowledge, Ra crushed the rebellion on my world. These people took me in; I was able to practice my profession again and, with Mehan's knowledge added to my own, make my livelihood by helping them."

Daniel's eyes widened as he scratched at his chin. "So, this technology—they got that from you?"

"Some. These are clever people, Dr. Jackson. In many ways, I merely helped them to better use what they already knew. Also, with Mehan's memories, I found ways to produce useful energy for things they hadn't yet discovered."

"The electric lights."

"Yes. Of course, I haven't told them everything that I know. When they are ready, perhaps I will reveal more." He smiled tightly and reclined, resting his palms on his legs. After a short pause, he added, "now, I must ask you what you want with this place." His eyes were still pools. He was reading them. Kefal was apparently satisfied that their motives for this mission were pure—but he wasn't about to let them out of his sight unless he was satisfied that they were sufficient. Now was the time to talk fast.

Sam and Teal'c slid their eyes to Daniel, who quirked the corner of his mouth slightly. "Well… you might like to know, that you don't need to be afraid of Ra anymore. He's been dead for almost ten years now."

Kefal's crystallized gaze fractured slightly. "Are you certain?"

Daniel propped his elbow on the arm of the couch. "Well, I was there; and, I helped." Daniel let a smile make its way to his eyes as he saw the mixture of emotions swirl over Kefal. "We need the Asgard to help save the life of the man who killed Ra. A man who happens to be a good friend of mine." Daniel flared his eyebrows and glanced around the room. "All of us actually." Kefal's body slumped slightly. It was impossible to say if he was absorbing what was being said, or if it was simply reflecting off him past the 'Ra is dead' point.

Sam took a deep breath that was a combination of a sigh and a gathering of strength. "Kefal, we're good friends of the Asgard. Unfortunately, we haven't been able to contact them. This was what we came up with. I realize that you have to take our word on that, but… it's the truth."

Kefal ran his palms over the material of the seat, his eyes staring vacantly forward. "I believe you. I had wondered why Ra had not sought me out. Now, I suppose, I know." His shoulders fell as his eyes came back into focus. "You friend says very little," he said, jerking his chin past them. Kyle had found a comfortable chair far in a shadowed corner of the room. His arms and legs were crossed and he'd let his head fall back on the chair. He simply waved limply.

Teal'c folded his hands together. "I believe that he is simply attempting to be unobtrusive." Kefal's face bent in confusion.

Sam leant forward slightly, rubbing her hands together. "Kyle's a friend who's not really supposed to be here, but he wanted to help us. I think he's just trying to attract as little attention as possible." Her eyes fluttered as she slid forward—a little too far. She jerked herself up harshly.

With tired eyes and a wide grin, Kefal nodded. "I think I can appreciate that. Come. You will need your rest now." Sure enough, Ayala floated into the room and paused in front of the fireplace. She brought her heels together soundly and bowed at the waist. "Your rooms have been prepared. If you would follow me, I shall see that you are made comfortable." With brief expressions of gratitude toward their host, the four visitors rose and followed the woman from the room in a single, plodding file.


	9. Persistence of Memory

Daniel gingerly lifted the hot kettle off the iron rack in the fireplace. He crossed to the elegantly carved table and poured the liquid into the ceramic carafe, carefully holding the ends of his homemade coffee bags. Without access to a coffeemaker, this was about as good as it got. He set the kettle aside and pulled up chair, dunking the bags as he looked around. The guest suite was small but comfortable. There were a number of bedrooms and a shared washroom leading off the common area. That was where Daniel sat, watching his coffee steep.

Normally, he could sleep anywhere, but tonight his body's clock had gotten him up after only a couple of hours. Maybe it was the extended nap earlier. Well, whatever the case, it was a chance to enjoy some peace a few hours before first light. With one last plunge of the bags, he was satisfied with the strength of the coffee. He poured himself a mug and sat, sipping lightly. Daniel sank back into the chair, listening to the crackle of the wood in the fire as it chased away the chill seeping in the windows above.

At his third sip of coffee, he heard a slight ruffling coming from Kyle's room. Jackson wasn't trying to be voyeuristic, but the pattern of soft gasps and groans was familiar in a way he'd rather not think about. He'd spent the better part of the late nineties waking up to the echo of those sounds in his bedroom. With a frown, Daniel got up and pulled a second mug off the mantle, filling it as he sat back down. A moment later, a thump settled to the floor and Kyle staggered out. He stood silhouetted in the dim light for a moment as he leaned against the doorjamb, covered in perspiration, rubbing his face briskly. "Coffee?" Daniel pushed the spare mug across the table.

Kyle nodded and crumpled down opposite him, leaning over his mug with his elbows on the table. "Thanks, Danny."

Daniel winced slightly. Was 'Daniel' really that hard to say? After all, it has the same number of syllables. "Don't mention it. Just… returning the favor," he said with a sweeping gesture.

Kyle chuckled softly. "Yeah. Sorry, about the… name thing. Forgot where I was for a second."

Daniel smiled and hefted his mug. "Don't tell me I actually let you get away with that?"

Kyle sighed and took a drink. "Not really. That's never stopped me, though."

Daniel waited until he'd returned his mug to rest on the table. "So… do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

Kyle looked up stared back for a moment, before shrugging. "Um… sure."

"What was her name?" Kyle froze, but softened his face. "Widower's intuition."

Kyle quirked up the side of his mouth. "We're not supposed to have this conversation for another year, Daniel. Let's just shelve it for now, okay?"

Daniel nodded reluctantly. "Okay. Sorry…" he shrugged, "I just thought you might want to talk about it."

"S'okay Daniel. I made my peace… heh. Right about now, actually." He rolled his eyes around. "I just don't usually talk about things like that. It's either being too close to Sam in my sleep, or I'm still feeling that little stargate switch-track effect," he said with a wave of his hand. Daniel's brow knit in confusion. Kyle stabbed his thumb back toward her room. "She's not doing so hot right now and when I'm asleep I can't filter her out."

Daniel nodded briskly. "What about the… what did you call it? 'Switch-track effect'?"

Kyle flashed a smile. "The stargate wasn't designed for time travel. The way that it works—putting you in two places at once—people like me don't respond well to that." Daniel's eyes narrowed in slight curiosity. "Um… let me see if I can explain this. It's like looking into a mirror with another one right across from it; you see an infinite number of reflections. It's like feedback."

Daniel blinked and closed one eye in a squint. "Feedback. Like a… power surge?"

"Okay. Most things in physics that strike people as weird: alternate universes, high numbers of dimensions, et cetera, are caused by possible violations of the uncertainty principle. It says that you can't measure two things that are connected perfectly and at the same time. That's because when you measure something, you change it. When you see or hear something, that's a measurement; but it's passive. You saw a visual distortion, when you went through to 1969?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah, for a minute it looked like we were back in the embarkation room."

"Well, the universe is lazy. To keep your eyes from 'measuring' the gate room in two different times simultaneously, it decided that the easiest way to not break the law was to just not let you see one of them correctly. It could get away with that because your senses are all passive—they can't affect their environment. Mine do. So, to prevent the violation, the universe creates entropy; a lot of entropy." He flicked the side of the table, punctuating the statement.

Daniel brought his eyebrows together. "Well, that can't feel good." Daniel had seen what excess entropy could do to a person when the alternate universe versions of Sam and Kawalski had paid them a visit. Samantha (not their Sam) had gone through entropic cascade tremors until they were able to return her and Kawalski to their proper reality. The tremors had obviously caused her an incredible amount of pain and even made her seem to fade in and out of existence. If he understood what he was saying, this wasn't the same thing but still—the thought made Daniel's stomach turn a little. As he sat thinking about the unpleasantness that the man in front of him had gone through, he realized there had been some changes in him since they first spoke back in the infirmary.

Early on he'd been active, playful. Actually, in a lot of ways, he reminded him of Jack. Now, though, he seemed to be getting progressively sullen as time dragged on. He seemed to be forcing himself to keep most of his conversations with them pretty limited (no real surprise there); but, when he did have a protracted discussion, his eyes crinkled slightly, and the corners of his mouth tugged backward as if he was biting back an emotion. Daniel blinked and peered over his steaming mug. He realized that Kyle hadn't responded to his last statement. Well, given the topic, he couldn't exactly blame him. It would probably be better to change tack. "So, I have to ask—how'd you know to bring me coffee?"

His face lifted into the first genuine smile Daniel had seen since the infirmary back at the SGC. For some reason that seemed like a long time ago. "I don't know, Daniel, it might seriously cut into my petty cash," he said taking a sip of coffee.

Daniel almost laughed aloud at the statement. Instead he leaned against the table and crooked his elbow underneath him and smiled conspiratorially. "Really?"

Kyle tapped his fingers against the finished surface of the table for a moment before chuckling slightly and shrugging. "Oh well, make me work harder," he said as he leaned forward a bit. He swirled the cup slightly and watched the brown beverage steam itself a fraction of a degree cooler. "I've played poker with you. You've got a 'tell'."

"Poker?"

"Every Thursday night for the last five years. When we're all on Earth. Or… together, at least," he said with eyebrows flashed upward.

"We?"

"Nope. Sorry."

Daniel flared his eyebrows in humor. "So. My 'tell'."

Kyle sighed. "When you're done with whatever you're looking at, you close it or put it away slowly. If you plan to keep going, or you need to do something with what you're holding, you slap it down and put it away fast. Last night you slapped your binder closed. I knew that you'd be up for hours looking something up. You do the same thing when you're bluffing."

Daniel blinked for a moment. "I've never thought about that." He lifted his mug and took a pull. "Actually… I think you might be right."

Kyle saluted with his mug before taking a loud sip. "I know I'm right. Its not your only one by the way," he said with a point.

Jackson smiled easily. It had been a long time since he'd felt so completely pegged. "Well, I hate to cut into your petty cash," he said with a slight laugh. Kyle simply shrugged. "But, on the other hand, if you ever need to borrow some my rates are… pretty reasonable." Rand chortled slightly. For a moment, there was a trace of sadness on his face but it was soon gone. Much as he wanted to press the issue, Daniel decided it was probably best to keep his observations to himself. Something was eating at him but there was no way he could put it in context.

"Listen, Daniel."

"Hm?"

"Its nothing personal. But, I've been thinking that I should go on alone tomorrow. You three should head back to the gate and I'll bring anything out that I find."

Daniel squared his shoulders and crossed his arms slowly. "Why do you say that?"

"Sitting there, listening to Kefal," he blew out a stream of air, "it made a few things I knew click into place. I don't think it's a good idea for you to come with me. I'd be saying this even if this were my time." He waved a puff of steam from the carafe as he refilled his mug. "I'm not going to put you through that."

Daniel relaxed slightly. At least it seemed to be concern rather than contempt. "Put me through what, exactly?"

Kyle ran his fingers over his mug, studying Daniel for a moment. "These defenses aren't like anything you've ever seen before. You heard Kefal."

"Well, no one here is goa'uld. Doesn't that mean that nothing will happen?"

Kyle shook his head. "Nope. It just means that it won't work," he waved a finger around, "completely the way it's supposed to."

Daniel tipped his eyebrows together. "Why would the Asgard build something like that?" This rabbit hole just seemed to keep on going. He was hiding something, just not working too hard at it. "This is more than just a communications facility, isn't it?"

He tapped the side of his mug. "I might have left out a tiny little detail." Kyle quirked up one side of his mouth. "You know the Asgard have been involved in the politics of this galaxy for millennia." Daniel nodded. "Well, if you were going to enforce something like the Protected Planets Treaty in another galaxy… wouldn't you need a staging area?"

Daniel pressed his eyes closed. Fabulous. It made perfect sense: Kefal's fanaticism; the hidden planet; the excessive defenses. The Yggdrasil was an Asgard military facility, and they were about to break in. "Where does the Bifrost Bridge come into this?"

"It's the base communications plexus. I wasn't lying about that."

"That doesn't explain why you don't want to take us in with you."

Kyle regarded him carefully for a moment. He began fidgeting with his coffee mug and spinning it slowly around the table using one finger and the handle. "This thing is like a goa'uld memory device except it's a room. It gives a host control gradually by overwhelming the symbiote with the person's shared memories. Bad memories work best they're usually the strongest. I'm going to be giving it plenty to work with and you shouldn't have to deal with what's up here," he said tapping his temple.

Daniel winced slightly and looked Rand over carefully. "Something like a Blood of Sokar experience then?" Kyle wrinkled his brow for a moment before a light popped over his head as he recalled the reference. He nodded. Daniel turned over thoughts in his head. The idea of going through that kind of thing again with others forced to participate wasn't a fun thought. If Kyle knew him half as well as he seemed to, then he had to know that he didn't have a monopoly on less than beautiful memories. Daniel peaked his eyebrows and groaned slightly as he made the connection. "You think it'll go for you because… you're the one hiding something."

"Give the man a stuffed bear," he said raising his mug.

"Well, I'm going to be totally honest with you." Daniel shifted slightly in his chair. "I'm willing to bet you don't read Asgard fluently," Kyle rocked his head slightly, "can't fight off a jaffa detachment single handedly," Kyle winced, "and are good enough at what you do to not turn down Sam's help if you can get it." Kyle scratched his stubble pensively. Daniel stared over the top of his glasses. "You need us. We need you. Obviously the information that got us out here was sent after all this is over, so if it were going to be a problem, we'd know. And besides—we're talking about Jack O'Neill's life here. There's no way we're _not_ going with you. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it."

Kyle stared at his mug, defeated. "I had to try, Danny."

IIIIIII

Morning brought with it storm clouds billowing down the mountains. Sam and Teal'c had risen early, surprised to find Daniel and Kyle already up and dressed, trading small talk. Ayala came in just after sunrise with trays of fruits, meats, bread and several breakfast beverages. She had been surprised to find them all up, but nonetheless, proceeded to set the common table for the meal and throw open the shutters. The high windows allowed the dull, gray light to stream in, coloring the mood appropriately and illuminating the sandy stone and olive-colored wood furniture. Slowly, the group stirred into life.

They each picked at their meals as light spittle of rain decked the windows. Daniel looked up at the panes and groaned. Sam followed his eyes upward and shook her head. "Looks like we'll need to break out the rain gear."

Kyle pushed back from the table and stood up with a large, theatric stretch. "I'll handle it. See you in ten."

"Sure," she nodded back as he pushed out the door. Kyle shuffled down the stairway. After a few false turns, he found his way back to the foyer, where their packs had been brought. He slid to a knee and began rummaging through the packs, breaking out ponchos and then coverings for the packs themselves. Kyle glanced up the way he'd come. Right about now, Daniel should be filling in Sam on the essentials of their little chat. So, in anywhere between two and five minutes she should come charging down the stairs looking for his blood. Well, she'd get over it quickly enough. Besides, it wouldn't be the first time… well, maybe it would actually; it sure wouldn't be the last… well, maybe…

"Is this man you seek to help also hok'tar?" Kefal's voice startled Kyle out of his reverie. He leaned casually on a corner of a pillar, tugging on the sleeves of a dressing gown. "Surely, he must have been a powerful warrior to have defeated Ra. But, is one powerful warrior equal to the price you may pay? The wrath of the Asgard is not to be taken lightly."

Kyle closed one of the snaps of waterproof material around Teal'c's pack. "No. He's not like me. He's way more important."

"He's earned your loyalty. Interesting."

"Not really. Not if you knew Jack O'Neill."

"I cannot dissuade you."

"Nope."

"In that case," Sam came storming down the hallway. She was pink with fury, shaking her head. Kefal smiled slightly, "good fortune to you."

They said their goodbyes and made their way outside the city. The road leading out of the town was slick, slowing their progress. About a kilometer outside of town, Kyle pointed down a worn, dirt turnoff. Sam called a halt and spun him around. "Why didn't you say anything sooner?" Kyle straightened his back and shifted on the soggy ground, but it was Teal'c who answered.

"Major Carter, this information would have changed nothing; neither our intentions nor our actions." Kyle raised an eyebrow and jerked his head toward Teal'c.

Daniel pulled his glasses off and began drying the lenses. "Besides, Sam—do you honestly think that Doctor Weir would have let us go if she knew we were going to raid an Asgard military outpost?" Kyle pointed to Daniel and nodded vigorously, not breaking eye contact with Carter.

"Trust me Sam, it couldn't have gone down any other way," Kyle intoned as he pulled on his gloves. "I'm sorry to spring this, but you needed to be able to pitch this to Weir with a straight face."

"Fine." Her shoulders slumped in defeat. Sam jammed her cap down and trudged forward through the churned mud. Teal'c watched her recede as she allowed him to take point. She was very obviously tired, worn-down and strident. The last thing she needed at the moment was to be coddled; and she would see this as such. Teal'c knew, though, that she would eventually realize that Captain Rand had concealed a trivial piece of information to ensure that the mission could go forward. At the same time, he had given them what they needed to prepare for the task at hand. For that, he had his respect. Teal'c himself, though, couldn't possibly care less. There were times, however brief, when silence was more powerful than knowledge. The Tau'ri had a saying for this. What was it again? Ah: sometimes, discretion is the better part of valor. Teal'c pondered this as he trudged along the mired path, listening to voices fall behind him.

As Teal'c took the lead, Daniel Jackson sighed internally. His stomach wrenched itself into a slow, twisting knot. Maybe Kyle had been right; maybe they should have gone back to the gate. Was it right to ask someone to let you into their own private hell, no matter what the circumstance? Well, maybe that wasn't completely accurate. Reading between the lines, there wasn't anything private about it: they would see experiences that had been shared; the fact that only one of each pair could remember them notwithstanding. They would just be advancing the timetable a touch. Still… it wasn't like it would be seeing into Jack, Teal'c or Sam's past. They could deal with being in that situation—in fact, they had. This, though—it was like reading a stranger's diary. Something about it just felt inherently wrong.

Moreover, this wasn't some faceless person. He'd risked offending and annoying them to ensure that it would be easier for them to do what they would have done anyway. The important thing, though, what really stuck with Daniel, was that he'd put both his life and dignity at risk for someone else. That was all that Daniel could ever ask or want to know about the man's character. That character, that personality, made this whole idea an intrusion. It also meant, that the mollifying words about affecting the future, had better be correct. In more than one way, they were about to see a lot of things they shouldn't.

Sam brought up the rear, or so she though. The raindrops falling on her hood echoed against the Gore-Tex material of her poncho. The trees were beginning to thin out some, and the occasional clearing and rocky outcropping began to dot the path they were following. She was still seething some, over what Daniel had told her, when she heard a quiet squish off to her rear and left. "Hey, Sam."

She pulled her lips into a thin line and kept her eyes pinned straight ahead. Might as well get this over with. "Colonel—Captain, damn," she stumbled over the words out of irate habit. She was rewarded not with a defensive rebuke, but a soft chuckle.

"Whatever," Kyle sighed.

That got her attention. She knit her eyebrows and looked over her shoulder as she allowed him to catch up. "Are you a colonel?"

"Lieutenant Colonel; United States Air Force. I should have just kept my mouth shut and made everyone's life easier," he said as he locked step with her.

She fixed her gaze ahead once more. "How does that work?"

"Um… think of it sort of like NASA. Different services sponsor nominees to be part of the program. Just because you're an astronaut, you don't stop being whatever you were before you joined. But, if you do it long enough, you stop really thinking of yourself as that other thing. No one's called me by my AF rank since I was a major. To tell the truth, I'm not sure if I even own a set of blues anymore. Not that I ever really wore them."

"Shouldn't you be a full colonel? 'Captain' is an O-6 pay grade."

"My last two promotions were really close together. Air Force chose not to match the last one." He shrugged. "I don't care. Puddle."

Sam looked down and quickly sidestepped a large puddle that Daniel seemed to have found. One of his legs was sodden with muddy water and he muttered a faint curse up ahead. What a mess. "I hope your 'source' is right."

"What 'source'?"

"The one that said you don't have to worry about changing things. I'm more than a little skeptical. I mean… who came up with a theory like that?" Kyle scratched at his chin and glanced around for a moment. Finally he cleared his throat and raised his hand a little off his P90. "You," she asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"It's just a theory," he opined as he held his hands up defensively. "Small changes don't affect the timeline. Probably."

"So, then who's this source?" She shot him a glare that was somewhere between annoyed and curious.

"You—telling me to go with it!"

"Why—" Sam stopped herself and shook her head for a moment. "I'm not asking for the math, but, how does this work exactly?"

Kyle straightened his cap and sighed. "Okay… an example." He turned his palm up and gestured to her. "You have a time travel experience. Time travel to the past is like a loop. You do things in the past that affect the future and then you go back to the past and so on and so on…" Sam nodded. "What if… instead of taking Hammond's note with you through the gate, you thought the old man was losing it and you tossed it in the trash on the way down to the embarkation room?"

She rocked her head slightly. "Lieutenant Hammond would have never freed us and we would be in prison thirty years in the past."

"Right. Wherever it was they took spies in the sixties; probably somewhere with no room service. But as a lieutenant, Hammond would have seen you and recognized you back at the Pentagon and the others when the SGC started up. He would have done something to try and change your fate."

Sam's eyes darted around. "So… on the next loop through, he recognizes me and he has me do research on using the stargate for time travel. Then he makes sure I take a note through with me."

"Right. The note that time around might not have all the right information. It might take a few loops through to get the message right. But, eventually, you get back to what originally happened. So, either a problem fixes itself or the changes don't matter. Loop complete."

A corner of her mouth pulled up as she nodded, trying to find a flaw in the logic. It wasn't perfect, but it could work—a lot of the time. "So, how small of a change is 'small'?"

He flared his eyebrows. "That's the catch. Like I said, just a theory."

The rain began to blow in fine sheets as the wind shifted. The dampness sprinkled their faces and the wind sloughed off the few pools that had managed to accumulate about them, creating a few random streams and splashes. Sam sighed and let a comfortable silence drop. She let her ice blue eyes search the gray sky ahead, as the number of trees dropped to a few dense stands as they crested a ridge and entered a small caldera, filled with brilliant green grass. The depression was about three kilometers across and was mostly flat with a few rocky outcrops, and a particularly interesting gully across the caldera. By implication, it seemed to be their destination—from here on the path was nearly non-existent. She smiled inwardly, allowing herself a degree of satisfaction. "You know, I sent myself a note." Kyle cocked an eyebrow. "I said you were a brilliant scientist."

Kyle's eyes brightened a bit and he laughed softly. "Aw, now who's the liar? I get a good idea occasionally, but I'm not you." He sighed theatrically and touched two fingers to her elbow. She looked over with a curious expression. "Listen, Sam…" He looked around as he quirked a corner of his mouth. "I'm sorry, ma'am. I should have told you everything—about this, if nothing else. I just didn't know if Weir would pull you guys aside and do a private debrief. I had to be sure that you could look her in the eye and convince her. We're lucky to be here at all with the gate officially shut down."

Sam knit her eyebrows. "You didn't know?"

Kyle pulled his mouth tight for a moment. "I never worked for her and I've only met her a couple of times. I only know what I've heard."

Sam turned the thought over in her mind a couple of times before letting out a deep breath, she didn't know she was holding. "It's okay. Apology accepted."

They trudged through the muck for a few minutes, before Sam spoke again. "Do you always call me 'Sam'?"

He looked over his shoulder and paused, looking suspiciously into a stand of trees before continuing. "Um, no. Usually, just off-duty or when the conversation's personal."

Carter bit her lip, pondering for a moment. "And now?"

He smiled slyly. "Keeps me from slipping up on rank again."

Sam blew a puff of air through her cheeks as she looked at the ridges surrounding them. They were nearly at the far gully, and she didn't want any surprises or unwelcome visitors. "You know, Kyle. My note said something else about you," she said as she finished scanning the area.

"Oh? My favorite color or my aversion to snakes?"

Sam chuckled lightly as she sighed. "Neither. It said you were a good friend—like family." She finished her sweep and turned to face him. He was sanding stock-still and shifting uncomfortably. She felt her insides squirm a little at his reaction. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shifted and adjusted his pack slightly. "It's just… I've known you for almost seven years and… you've never… I mean—you've never had to, not with me, but I just… I never thought I'd hear…" His voice trailed off, his hands seeming to communicate their futility in gesture form. He gaped slightly and cleared his throat before continuing on.

Sam pressed her eyes closed a fraction and sighed. "Well, maybe that's something small to change the next time through."

His eyes narrowed. "Samantha," he growled.

It was an icy tone; one that Sam was sure would freeze anyone under his command. With her, though, it seemed to thaw briskly. She just raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, staring him down. His glare eased at the confrontation and he just shook his head with a small smile.

"Sam! Kyle!" Daniel shouted them over to the gully. They crossed the remaining distance at a quick jog. Teal'c was peering around the corner of the formation pensively. No one was in the mood for another ambush. High rock walls on either side, forming a natural channel, surrounded the gully.

Kyle looked up and over. Yep. If someone was going to try and jump them, this would be the place. "I'll take a look." Teal'c inclined his head in assent.

Before Sam could ask what he was going to do, he walked over to the outcropping, crouched slightly and jumped straight up. He landed cleanly on the top of the high rocks, but stumbled slightly as the loose gravel gave under his feet gave way as he moved. He got to the edge and crouched, looking over the area. Only his head was in view by then. "It looks—ah!" The head disappeared. All three pulled their weapons and rounded the corner quickly, using what little cover there was. What they saw was… surprising.

In the middle of the gully, Kyle was sitting in a puddle of dense purple mud, covered from head to toe, with his elbows resting on his knees. Daniel sputtered slightly at the sight as they approached, relaxing as they each found an expression of mirth. Daniel continued to chortle as though he'd sprung a leak. Teal'c was brandishing a small smile and Sam chomped down on her lower lip to keep from laughing. Below the waist he was completely covered and a large glob had landed on his left cheek. He flicked it away and sing-songed, "be, all that you can be…" Sam laughed and stuck out her hand, helping him from the fragrant muck. To keep from laughing, Daniel looked toward the end of the gully and saw a stone archway set into the hillside, emblazoned with runes. They made their way toward the device. "This so wasn't in the brochure," Kyle whined.

Daniel grinned wide. "Oh, quit complaining. You've had worse."

Sam laughed playfully. "There was the time Jack snuck rescue dye into his shower head." She laughed harder, nearly doubling over.

Teal'c's smile deepened. "Indeed. I have never observed a human of that particular color."

"He…" Sam gasped between laughs; "he was blue for a week!"

Daniel laughed and wiped his forehead free of moisture. "I still can't believe Jack actually sent us offworld with him like that."

"I believe that was the point," Teal'c intoned. "It was most… educational to observe him acting as an alien."

Daniel knotted his brow as they stood beneath the arch. "What did he tell those people he was… a Bolian, wasn't it?"

Sam sighed, wiping a tear from her face as she got control of her laughter. "It's a Star Trek alien." She sniffed and took a deep breath. "They're blue."

Daniel's face was nearly red, holding back a tear of his own as he inspected the arch runes. "Well, at least he didn't pretend to be a Smurf." He turned to ask Kyle what to do and just saw him staring at them, open mouthed, pushing his eyes closed.

"Crap." The parts of Rand that weren't covered in mud were sheet-white.

Only then did Daniel realize what had just happened. Before, he could ask what to do, though; a searing white light enveloped them.


	10. Persistence of Memory: Daniel

Daniel blinked. For a minute there… it was almost like he was just somewhere else. The crystal clear blue sky seemed to flare for a moment. He tilted up his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. The bright glare reflecting off the five concrete walls surrounding him reduced again as he replaced them and a gentle breeze blew through the Pentagon courtyard, staving off the early afternoon heat.

A sharp whistle jolted him out of his reverie. Daniel looked over the stack of files on the bistro table, searching for the source of the disturbance. He dropped a folder as his eyes landed on a suspicious figure wearing Air Force blue. "Jack."

Major General Jack O'Neill, retired, ambled across the courtyard to Jackson's table and slid into the empty seat with a quirky smile, draping a garment bag over his lap. "Daniel. Trying to give yourself a paper cut?" Jack drummed his fingers on the table impatiently as he regarded Daniel. Well, maybe 'stared down' would be a better way of putting it. O'Neill's silver hair matched up nicely with the pair of stars on each shoulder. In rare form, he was in full dress uniform, with all possible polish; starched and seemingly unfazed by the heat or his seated position. But beneath the surface smile, his mannerisms were curt and efficient. In short, Jack was out today in lethal form.

Daniel began stacking the files and shoving them into his briefcase. "Jack, what are you so happy about?" He tossed the last of the folders into the case and smacked it shut, letting it drop from his hands, onto the ground with a resounding crack. Some people at the various tables briefly turned to see where the sound had come from.

"Nervous, Daniel?"

"Yes, actually. No. Terrified would be a little more accurate."

"Well, don't be."

"Jack! You know, I would think that you would be just a little more worked up about this. Know something I don't?"

"Daniel—you'll do fine. Deep, cleansing breaths." O'Neill made an overly elaborate inhaling gesture.

Daniel waved his hands in futility. "Jack… this is so wrong… I don't even know where to begin…"

"Daniel…"

"I have no idea why I agreed to do this…"

"Daniel!" Jack shot a glance over his shoulder as he leaned forward, across the table. "Danny, you're panicking."

Daniel rapped his knuckles on the table. "He doesn't deserve this; Jack, I think he needs a real lawyer. Granted, I'm basically just pleading guilty, but… I'm not sure if I can do this."

"Well, I am. After all, you argued a case for Skaraa. Kyle made the right call."

"On which part?" Daniel was fast becoming exasperated. This was a far cry from arguing that his late brother in law should be allowed to be free of a goa'uld. "Besides, you helped with Skaraa. This isn't the same, Jack, it's a general court-martial."

Jack sat upright and tugged down his glasses so that he could see Daniel over the rims. "First of all, he made the right call on both counts. If it were me, I like to think I would have done the same damn thing." O'Neill's eyes narrowed and the façade smile dropped, making him look the part of an angry predator. "And if you think I'm going to let them hang one of my people for doing his job, then we don't know each other as well as I thought." Jack leaned back and replaced his glasses, letting the words sink in.

Daniel shifted in his seat, considering what Jack had said. Instead, he couldn't help but think of what it had been like to watch Kyle get dragged away. _Kyle raised his hands in surrender, a resigned but otherwise neutral expression on his face. The burly guard grabbed him and spun him down onto the briefing room table—hard._ The only reason he hadn't been led away in handcuffs, at least at that point, was because Jack had managed to intimidate an MP twice his size and half his age. "Have you seen him yet?"

Jack pulled a thin smile onto his face. "They wouldn't let me in. Besides, I thought I'd say hi. See if you needed anything. Books, papers… maybe a massage."

"Well, I'm about as ready as I'm going to be," Daniel said with a small, sheepish smile. "Why don't we drop by? We still have an hour or so before court."

Jack's grin was back. "Peachy," he said snatching up the garment bag. They left the courtyard and began winding their way through the massive office building. The wide corridors echoed with sundry footsteps. "So, Daniel—we've been trying to sort of follow along since you two left Colorado. What's been going on?"

Daniel stalled to a halt and stared at O'Neill. "You don't know."

Jack drew the glasses from his face and pocketed them. "They wouldn't tell us squat. OSI gave me this song and dance about a classified investigation: 'Only people directly involved with the case would be told anything before the trial'. Basically, they gave me the run around. I assumed that since you were involved, you'd keep things humming as usual." Jack shrugged. "Well… I assumed, since they wouldn't actually let me talk to you. And… well, I offered to let Teal'c visit if I believed otherwise." Jack's eyes darted, detecting witnesses to the slightly guilty statement.

Daniel sighed and brought a pair of fingers to his temple, massaging the familiar headache that was developing anew. "I asked them to tell you, Jack. But then again, I don't suppose I'm too surprised." Maybe Jack should have let Teal'c 'visit'.

"Daniel… what don't I know?"

Daniel's mouth was drying out quickly. It made his own blood run cold; there was no telling how O'Neill would take the news. There was nothing for it but to just say it and watch Jack's reaction. Daniel swallowed hard and sighed. "OSI decided that Kyle was a high threat prisoner and a high escape risk. High enough that they couldn't keep him at the Andrews stockade."

Jack O'Neill's gaze crystallized and his voice became a vicious sotto. "Where have they been keeping him?"

Daniel felt his own anger returning, but for the first time he was entitled to share it with someone. Until now, he'd kept his mouth shut for fear of making his friend's situation worse. Now, his eyes blackened in fury and he nearly vomited the word, "Leavenworth."

Jack was normally a pretty easy-going guy. He was, in fact, about as laid back as two star generals came. Right now, though, his neck knotted—visibly, his shoulders squared dangerously and his eyes bristled with a cold light, that Daniel was grateful had never been directed at him. "Are you telling me that Kyle has spent the past three weeks in the Castle?"

Leavenworth Penitentiary was the last stop for the worst criminals caught within the ranks of the United States military: a maximum-security prison, with the moniker, 'The Castle'. Robert Redford movies notwithstanding, it was the repository of men who had committed horrendous acts while in the uniform of the United States, usually using that uniform as a weapon against innocent people; and many of them without a shred of their honor left. It was no place for an un-tried, and un-convicted man; certainly not a good and decent man, with his honor intact; an innocent man.

Daniel jerked his head down the hall, too furious to speak. His righteous indignation had gotten the validation he had needed for the better part of a month. Jack had fallen silently into step beside him. Daniel spat a bitter chortle. "I was thinking. If this doesn't work, I think I'll need a few zats and a ship." He was only half kidding, but he'd rather stage a break-out and spend the rest of his life in exile than let his friend be taken back to that hellhole.

"Done," Jack said without missing a beat. "You'll have help."

Daniel ground his heel into the floor with each step, his anger finding purchase in every movement, every breath. The seething, liquid stream of fury boiled in his stomach like the acid that was rapidly giving him an ulcer. He made a mental note to get that treated when this was over. Most of the time he was able to handle some of the injustices he saw with a kind of glacial calm. No matter how incensed, how concerned or how engrossed he became over some of the atrocities he'd seen in his life, there was always this still center he'd been able to call on to guide him. Problems could be fixed, people could be reasoned with, changed or, worst-case scenario, made to change for the better.

This, though, was personal. This was someone whose loyalty and trust he'd earned. This was a friend; a friend who had saved his clumsy ass so much he'd lost count; a friend who swore he never used telekinesis to cheat him at darts; who swore he only used it to cheat Sam at pool (and then only when she needed to be taken down a few notches); who had once reprogrammed his iPod to only play "We Are the World"; who had dragged himself back and forth across the galaxy, through blood and mud, simply because Daniel had asked for his help. No—he was wrong. This was family. And one thing, you did not do—not ever, was screw with anyone that Doctor Daniel Jackson considered family. The only comfort he could draw, was that Jack had to be thinking along the same lines just then; little comfort though it was.

Finally, Daniel stopped at a secure checkpoint, presenting his badge without really thinking about it, his body on autopilot. They stepped into the anteroom of the dedicated cell, when his brain reconnected to the rest of his body. The stark light of the halogen lamps on the concrete surfaces, snapped him back into focus. He held out a hand against O'Neill's chest as the MP in the room began tapping a series of codes into the armored door in front of them. "Jack."

O'Neill, made eye contact with Daniel, the corners of his mouth twitching—his only response.

"Jack, you're not going to like this."

"Am I gonna like this less than what I've already heard?"

Daniel sighed, the rage seeping from his body, having worn out its welcome. A tired ache took up residence instead. "Probably."

Jack exhaled through his nose, shapely. "Open the damn door," he barked at the MP.

Before the man could fumble a response, the heavy door began sliding open. The hairs on Daniel's arm stood on end as the cool air from the cell mixed around them. They stepped into vivid white room, and Daniel watched Jack's jaw drop ever so slightly. In each corner was a heavily armed security guard: two SFs and two MPs. In the center was a white, high-back, thick steel chair, fronted by a cheap, white folding table. The chair's occupant was muzzled like Hannibal Lecter. He was strapped into it by heavy, white nylon straps. His hands and feet were bolted to the arms and legs and covered with metal mittens. His face was obscured with a vented plastic mask, covering his mouth and nose. Only the bright orange jumpsuit gave any color at all to the room. Daniel's throat caught—never becoming quite used to the sight. After all, they had only flown him in from Kentucky yesterday. For what he was, Kyle was hunted like an animal by every goa'uld in the galaxy. Now, he was being treated like one by the people he had sworn to protect.

"Untie him." Jack's tone was so cold and smooth; it seemed to come from the walls themselves. Some of the guards stirred for a moment before one of the MPs, an Army Second Lieutenant, spoke up.

"I'm sorry sir, I—"

"Allow me to be clear. Major. General. Two stars." Jack glared at the poor lieutenant, who was probably just following orders. "This is his counsel. I am his commanding officer. Unlock him and leave the room. Now."

"Sir," the lieutenant sputtered.

"Unlock. Out. Now. Count of three…" O'Neill demanded. "ONE!" At the general's encouragement, the detachment moved in record time, unlocking the various restraints, "TWO!" and slithered out the door, locking it behind them. "THREE!" Jack tossed the garment bag unceremoniously onto the table and he and Daniel rushed to remove the restraints from their precarious positions. Removing the mask was almost painful.

The defeated look on Kyle's face was apparent. He rose to his feet shakily and brought himself to attention. "Good to see you, sir." He slowly drew his hand up into a solid, clean salute. Daniel watched as Jack clicked his heel down as he soundly returned the gesture, even though he wasn't required to do so with Kyle out of uniform. The whole exchange was rare, indeed. Daniel could feel the vitriolic bite in his stomach returning.

"At ease, Commander," Jack intoned as his eyes wandered the cell.

Kyle looked over to Daniel. His eyes dejected, he stepped over to him and cracked a ghost of a smile. "Good to finally see you without that thing Daniel." His voice was quiet and measured. "Look… no matter what happens—I just wanted to say thanks. I know this is a lot to ask."

Daniel crossed his arms and looked directly into his eyes. "Don't even think about it. I am not going to let them take you back there. I promise."

"Yeah, me too," Jack chimed, his body beginning to relax slightly. He was still stiff as a board but he was no longer shaking and red-faced as he had been a minute earlier. "I'm also going to find sorry son of a bitch that set this up. Then, I think Teal'c will have a private chat with this person."

Kyle sank into his chair, leaning forward onto his knees. "I'm not sure you'll have far to look, sir."

Daniel shared a brief look at Jack before he spoke up. "You are not to blame here, you did nothing wrong!"

Kyle's head shot up. "Daniel, I disobeyed a direct order. Fourteen people died. Technically, that's 'something wrong'."

Jack jerked his head in a nervous tick. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, Kyle, you fought a battle that needed to be fought! I might point out that if you hadn't, none of us would be here right now."

"I know, Jack. If I had to, I'd do it again." Kyle said, running a hand over his hair. Jack nodded his silent understanding.

In his own way, Daniel knew that Kyle was grieving. He'd known a lot of the people that he'd lost. He accepted their deaths because he had to—it was the job. Most of the time you could take solace knowing that you had done what you could and that their sacrifices had had some meaning. It was never easy, but being around people who understood what it was to do this work helped: you dealt and moved on. Only this time, Kyle had been told that what he had done was wrong; and then he'd been pulled away and tossed into a rotting pit for three weeks with only the memories of that last engagement and the splinter of doubt, pushed into his mind by the charges.

He didn't doubt his actions—he doubted his tactics. It wasn't much but with all that had happened… Daniel knew he thought it might be possible that he'd been wrong somehow. "I don't think it's ever supposed to be easy," Daniel began cautiously. "I think this is how we know we're still human. But, no matter what anyone says, you did the right thing. I read what happened. If there had been another way… you would have found it."

Jack relaxed a bit and opened his stance slightly. "You know, I've learned Daniel's usually right about these things." Jack leaned against the table. Daniel watched intently. He'd been around the military enough to know a few things. Jack needed to make sure that this didn't break his command presence or Kyle would be useless to them.

Kyle's smile returned, with some of its mischievousness. "I know, Jack. I think, after all this crap, I just needed to hear it once."

"Good. Now," he jerked his head toward the garment bag, "get into uniform so we can get out of here. I'm freezing my cazoulas off." A brief twinkle crossed Jack's eyes. He nodded to Daniel.

Kyle nodded briskly. "Yes, sir."

Daniel smiled. He let himself be warmed by Jack's satisfaction. "Oh, and Jack?"

"Yes, Danny boy?"

"When you find out who did this, I think I'll help Teal'c pay them a visit." Before Jack could respond, the white of the light grew brighter, enveloping Daniel in a cold glow.


	11. Persistence of Memory: Samantha

  
  
A/N: These chapters are meant to be missing scenes/POVs to stories I've sort of mentally sketched. Also, they don't take place in chronological order. Kyle's rank is mentioned explicitly (at least once) in each one, so that should tell you when it takes place. In case you haven't guessed, Kyle's sub-service uses the USN rank custom. Here it is, with USAF equivalents in parenthesis. This should help.

* * *

Ensign (2nd Lt.), Lt. Junior Grade (1st Lt.), Lt. (Captain), Lt. Commander (Major), Cmdr. (Lt. Colonel), Captain (Colonel)

* * *

Sam squinted against the bright mid-afternoon sky as she pulled off her helmet and slipped on her sunglasses. It felt strange to be wandering around outside the mountain this time of day during the workweek, but she was searching for something. Slowly, she scanned the parking lot of the bar, tapping a thumb on her Indian's throttle as she looked. This was the fourth place she'd been to, and Sam was starting to get worried. She by no means knew every bar in Colorado Springs, but she'd bet that he would stay away from dives. This was the last nice place she knew.

Finally, her eyes lit on a familiar champagne-colored Jeep. It figured he'd be in no shape to ride his bike. Sam knocked down her kickstand and dismounted. She pulled her ponytail tight as a crisp gust of late fall air blew over her; the last of the scattered gold leaves swirled around the brick veneer of the bar/restaurant. The heels of her riding boots clicked softly as she strode over to the door and stepped inside. The bar was a converted mill house. The place was a two-story sports bar, with pool tables on the second floor; monitors were decked everywhere. She didn't come here too much—the place could be loud, but this time of day it was pretty tame.

The bartender was polishing a glass but waved a free hand at her. Sam smiled and returned it as she stepped up to the hostess' station. The young lady smiled brightly. "Just one?"

Sam smiled and pulled her glasses off. "Actually, I'm looking for someone. Dark hair, brown eyes," Sam shrugged, "military…"

The hostess smiled knowingly. "Sure. Follow me." She snagged a menu and led her toward the back corner of the restaurant.

Sam spied a dim booth ahead, with a boot sticking out from one side and propped up on the other. She stopped the hostess short and took the menu with a smile, saying she wanted to surprise him. The hostess grinned and told her someone would be by soon. Sam cautiously walked up to the booth and tossed the menu on the unoccupied side. "Is this seat taken," she asked. Kyle was staring down at a plate of onion rings and a tumbler of neat scotch. He leaned back and withdrew his boot, letting her slip into the opposite side of the booth. She peeled off her leather riding jacket and tossed it into the corner of the opposite seat, joining Kyle's flight jacket in a pile.

For a moment, Sam watched him watch her. The web of scars crisscrossing his face was beginning to fade to a pink web; his eyes were still dull and faded, reduced to only the color he'd been born with. Not that she had a problem with the color—his eyes looked that way unless you were staring straight on for awhile or knew what to look for—she just wasn't used to it. The slightly wicked, coppery glint was replaced by an empty malice, staring at her from across the table. "Ma'am," he said by way of a greeting. He reached out took a small sip of his scotch. He seemed to relax a bit, the harshness leaving his eyes… empty. It took a lot of what Sam had to stand her ground.

She smiled slightly and folded her hands in front of her. "I wanted to see how you were doing. You left the mountain a little quickly today." Given the sheer audacity of the question, Sam was positively amazed she said it with a straight face. A waitress came by and Sam ordered a Diet Coke. Rand took a nip from his; Sam traced the rings of wood on the table until after the waitress had returned with the drink and left again.

Kyle set down his tumbler and glared into her eyes. "Get the short straw, did we? Thought that was Hailey's shtick."

She cracked a grin at the reference to her protégé, the man's diminutive 2IC. Jennifer despised the short jokes. She watched him slowly crumple a napkin. "I pulled rank. CO's prerogative."

He stared into the bottom of his scotch. For a while, she thought he hadn't heard her. "That's been a little while."

"Old habits die hard."

He just sat and pushed his glass around. "Don't worry. I'll take my two weeks and be back, right as rain." The bitterness dripped from his mouth even as he tossed back the remainder of the scotch. "What do you want, Colonel?"

So he was deflecting was he? Okay. She could do this. She had practice. "Oh, for crin' out loud, Kyle." She leaned her elbow onto the table and threaded her fingers through her hair. "You left the mountain without saying a thing to anyone. I'm not expecting you of all people to gush, but I am expecting you to give a damn about the people who have been waiting for you to come home for the past two months." There was no way she was actually angry with him, but she needed to keep him talking, keep him from shutting down and shutting her and everyone else out.

His eyes creased a bit as she shattered through some of the defenses he'd built. "What do you want to hear, Sam," he hissed, "want to know what it was like?"

Sam pressed her eyes closed and remembered Brightman's briefing last week, a few days after they'd found him. _The silence in the room was deathly. Doctor Brightman paused as she entered the room, a stack of folders in her arms. With a quick blink, she made her way around the table ponderously, looking each person in the eye as she doled out the files; the four former members of SG-1, and the current three that weren't in the infirmary on life support. Emma sank into her seat and launched into the essential details, plowing through the first sentence as quickly as possible. "His blood work shows at least five individual goa'uld protein markers." Her ears seemed to stun, not absorbing much verbatim for a few moments._

_Emma began detailing the current status of his injuries. The extent of the scaring made it impossible to accurately determine the true number of symbiotes he'd had implanted and, somehow, fought off. His natural healing abilities were slowly resurfacing; it was leeching the massive amount of naquadah out of his bloodstream. In a few days they would be able to take him off the respirator. He would make a full recovery. There probably wouldn't even be any permanent scars, physical anyway._

_ General O'Neill listened as he flipped through the file, becoming paler by the page. That alone was enough to catch the attention of the others in the room. His own experiences as a captive made him a barometer for this kind of depravity. Dr. Brightman seemed to be watching him carefully, as if waiting for him to come to some particular part. _

_After a pause she made a noise, as if to speak. Unfortunately, her voice failed her and she clenched her hands for a moment. Daniel turned to her and inched a bit closer, adding his strength to whatever anonymous burden she carried. Finally, Brightman looked up, the perfect picture of medical detachment. The whole affair was less than ten seconds long, but it was enough to brace the entire room._

_Jack spoke softly, as if to spare her the need to elaborate. "Sarcophagus," he speculated. Brightman's eyes looked from him, down to the file in front of her. Sam watched Jack continue to scan the remaining pages. No one else had bothered to touch the paperwork._

_"From what we can tell, he was captured for experimentation. Captain Rand was subjected to a series of tests designed to fully document his genome, anatomy, physiology and threshold tolerances; pain, heat, and cold. According to the data on the crystals we recovered, whenever the Captain succumbed to a particular test, he was revived in a sarcophagus." Emma's fingernails plied the papers in front of her. "However, his ability to heal himself increased his tolerance to these experiments—dramatically." She whispered the last word. All eyes fell on Jack as he slowly closed the folder. Sam hadn't thought that the breadth and possibility of suffering was something that could surprise let alone visibly sicken Jack O'Neill anymore. Sometimes she hated being wrong._

The waitress set her drink down and they waved her off. "I haven't forgotten, Sam." Sam opened her eyes and looked at the man sitting across from her, Jack's last word from that meeting echoing like a nightmare. _"Vivisection…" _She swallowed hard and watched the map of agony on his face, in his eyes. He had already suffered so much in his lifetime; he didn't deserve this, not by a long shot. What was it with the men in her life? Sam felt her eyes soften a touch.

She'd been Kyle's team leader for two years, his supervisor for four, and his friend for almost as long. She had helped train this man. What made that different from the dozens of others was that he'd already come to her with experience, and had given as much as he'd taken. Later, when she'd earned his trust, he'd given back much more. And when that happened, he'd never failed to be there for her.

Samantha was deeply proud to take some credit for what he'd become in the past few years—professionally and personally. If that made her possessive… well, then so be it. Maybe it was selfish; maybe it was ego, maybe a few too many late nights in the lab or horror-flick missions with him walking point for her or someone she cared about. The age difference would have been scandalous but… damn it if she didn't think of him as one of her own. In every way but the biology, he was her flesh and blood and she was certainly known to mother him occasionally. That usually annoyed him to no end. _"Yes, **mother**_Actually—maybe that was why she did it most of the time. Most of the time. Sam fought to hold his gaze as her mind raced and retreated from her present train of thought. "So. Going surfing?"

His eyes dropped to the table. "Too cold. Can't snowboard either—no snow at Monarch yet. Might just go to Disneyland."

Sam bit her lower lip lightly. "Are you sure?"

Kyle munched down an onion ring and tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the table. "Sure about what?"

Sam polished off the remainder of her soda, drinking it down to ice melt. Well, here goes nothing. "Do you think it's a good idea for you to be alone right now?"

He stared back at her blankly for a moment before tossing over her jacket and pulling on his. He took his time, straightening the notched banded collar on the jacket. "Why break a trend, Colonel," he asked flippantly. "See you in a couple weeks." He turned to leave the booth.

"Kyle." With bitter inquisition, he stopped to look at her, his arms perched to push him to his feet. She had no idea how to say what she was thinking, feeling. Both of them had a hard time with that kind of thing. She wasn't sure she should; could say it even if she knew. Fortunately, with him she never had to. Emma had told her that with him as weak as he was, his ability to sense people was limited to touch for now. She'd never had cause to be this direct with him, but he really needed a solid kick in the ass now. She rolled her hand into a fist and pushed it across the table toward him. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and she looked down at her fist, encouraging him. Kyle dropped his arms and turned back toward her.

Like running into a fire against instinct, she stoked all the feeling she'd tucked away a few minutes ago, letting it overwhelm her. He stretched out two fingers gingerly, stopping just short. His fingers, his whole hand was so thin, gaunt and streaked with fat, fading scars. She hadn't noticed until now. She pushed her hand the rest of the distance, touching his fingers to her knuckles. Like a circuit completed, he flinched almost instantly, closing his eyes as he sorted through her feelings. After a moment, his eyes fluttered open. There was a wealth of emotions there, most of which she rarely saw him display openly. Sam cocked her head to the side and felt a tear spill down her cheek. With a heavy sigh, she withdrew her fist and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

She watched Kyle's shoulders sag by a degree. Samantha stood and crossed to his side of the booth. Standing on one foot, she poked him in the thigh with the toe of her boot, nudging him over. Satisfied, Sam dropped into the seat next to him. He was just staring at his palms; those burns must be painful, even now. There was no going back after showing him that and she didn't have the benefit of being able to sense his reaction. Maybe it would have been better not to have laid that bare; even with only an emotional impression, he surly would have gotten almost all of it. At the very least, for whatever it was worth, she had his attention now. "You shouldn't do this alone. You don't have to."

"What do you suggest," he asked quietly.

"First, promise me you'll stay in town. Then, leave the cash and follow me; Jack's barbequing. Or… he's trying to; Daniel's 'helping' so…"

Kyle chuckled. It was harsh and raw, but genuine. "Hey. Thanks," he said, bumping her shoulder. There was a lot he wasn't saying. He wasn't better; not by a long shot. But, maybe now he could **get** better. Sam wasn't naïve. She knew that things would never go back to the way they were. There would be some long days ahead; but each of the people around him could help in a different way, now that he'd let them.

Sam smiled, watching his posture. It struck a familiar chord with her, driving out an old memory, an old promise; one she meant to keep before it was too late. One thing she'd learned from Daniel—the hard way—was not to pass up the chance when it came. This had been a close one. She put an arm across Kyle's shoulders and leaned in, whispering softly. "I love you, kiddo." She felt Kyle freeze, then shift. Sam smiled to herself; some things just don't change. He didn't know that yet, though.

After a long pause, Kyle turned and squeezed her back, whispering to her, "You too, Mom." They separated with a fast squeeze. Sam wiped her eyes and she saw Kyle pinch the bridge of his nose. "Let's get going before someone from the base sees how pathetic we are."

Sam sniffed. "God, that's all we need."

"Bad for you, worse for me. The next time I yell at a Marine, I'm gonna hear 'Wanna watch Steel Magnolias, sir?' I have a reputation to keep."

Sam laughed a deep cackle. "I won't tell if you won't."

"Nah. You're still the toughest lady I know."

"Barbeque, flyboy?"

Kyle lifted his boot and gave her a gentle shove out of the booth. Sam slid easily to her feet. Whoops; she'd stiffed Kyle for her soda. She pulled out her wallet and dug out three dollars. She turned to drop them on the table, when someone at the table next to them took a flash picture. The bright light blinded her for just a moment.


	12. Persistence of Memory: Teal'c

A/N: Thanks to those out there for your kind reviews. Sorry for the delay on this update, but there are only two chapters (might break it to three) after this. I hope you've enjoyed the story so far and I hope you like the ending (and twists, in general).

* * *

Teal'c narrowed his eyes as the glare on the bright copper pot flared. The young boy carrying it looked ridiculously small for the task; tottering his way down the street with the oversized cooking vessel firmly enveloped. In spite of this, his grip remained sure and he continued along the teeming street with brow set in concentration, hurriedly withdrawing from the square. Smells of cooking food, fruits and game flowed freely from the restaurants, and stands surrounding the bustling marketplace. People churned around the stationary post that was Teal'c like eddies in a stream, filling the air with an endless supply of chatter and laughter. Teal'c loosened his grip on his staff weapon, pinching it loosely between his thumb and forefinger, sliding his hand down to rest on the trigger. Seeing this, these people—these jaffa; it is most satisfying, indeed. Teal'c smiled broadly, and then did something he couldn't remember having done before, something he didn't believe he would ever have in him—he sighed in abject contentment.

Cronus had abandoned this community of jaffa here millennia earlier after withdrawing from this region of space. The jaffa had been left amongst the abandoned human slaves as a… a fifth column, as the Tau'ri put it, to ensure that naquadah collection would continue after his departure and to prevent any resistance should he return. That return, though, had never occurred. Without a supply of symbiotes, these jaffa lived the duration of their lives without developing a dependence on goa'uld larva, though they were as vulnerable as any other being for it. Over time, they had endured plagues, floods, quakes and fires; enough calamity to shake their confidence in the all-seeing eye of Cronus. Their faith that had held in his absence for a thousand years was eventually shaken. They had released the humans from captivity, and the two cultures had built a peaceful society together. In truth, it was more accurate to say that the two societies coexisted and interacted, but were otherwise separate.

The jaffa city, and the outlying settlements, was clustered around the stargate; the human settlements some distance away. The jaffa had kept their unique culture, but developed a way of life free from the desire for, in fact deep disdain for, the false gods. So much so, that they had even studied the stargate as a technological and an archeological relic, and the arrival here of SGC personnel had been greeted with a mixture of caution, curiosity and excitement. They had developed an instant rapport with these people, trading information about their history for that of the greater jaffa rebellion—a fact about which they could not have been happier. Contact with the human culture had been more scant, and recent. Teal'c was still reserving judgment there.

General O'Neill had come with SG-1 and SG-5 to meet leaders from both peoples and to negotiate a trade agreement… for the mammoth stockpile of ancient naquadah that still existed. O'Neill's childlike enthusiasm at acquiring the glut of ore was… amusing to the point of distraction. Even a discreetly intensified boxing session had failed to curb his enthusiasm; not that Teal'c would injure his friend in an attempt to reduce his cloying gloat—more than once, at any rate. Hopefully the business of actually negotiating the material's acquisition would have the dampening effect he could not achieve. For the time being, Teal'c was content to spend time amongst these jaffa, learning from and speaking to them. To his mind, this society was what all jaffa should strive toward; and, in spite of their isolation, they had remained formidable warriors. A group of chak'ti on their way to bashaak, drew near, the cacophony of their staves beating in time with their steps through the market. The young boys ground to a halt before him, gawking at his presence. He allowed himself a small smile as one of the boys smacked the one in the lead with in the ankle with his staff. With a start, he nodded and the group bowed before him in respect. Teal'c returned the gesture as they scrambled onward.

Watching them continue, Teal'c rubbed his brow furtively. These jaffa had not branded themselves in many generations, however knowledge of the practice and it's practical aspects had survived. Finding himself among them without more pressing matters at hand—such as their survival—he had availed himself of their generosity and had the gold seal removed from his forehead. The feel of the breeze on his full face or sweat across his brow was an alien, though welcome sensation. In that vein, he spied a member of SG-5 walk into the market a distance away, halting just at the edge of the open area. He was dressed identically to Teal'c, in green field kit, carrying a staff weapon of his own. The man's face turned through the crowd, searching. Teal'c felt no need to make his presence known—he would be found soon enough. The man's eyes wandered through the crowd, finally locking with his own. With a grin, he called out over the crowd. "Father!"

Ry'ac slowly plied his way though the mass of people, narrowly avoiding a screeching gaggle of young children that an old man was chasing away to play elsewhere—anywhere but the area surrounding the cart bearing his goods. This was his first mission with SG-5 and the first time that Teal'c had been at his son's side through the stargate since the younger man had made the decision to move to Earth. In many ways, he was a younger reflection of himself; his face, the staff weapon and the BDUs an odd match. The sight of it on his son was… alien. His decision had been a difficult one, and Teal'c had tried to remove himself from it, leaving his son to choose his own path. It was important that Ry'ac find for himself the best way to serve the jaffa, and the alliance, cause given all that had happened recently. Now, though, with Ry'ac entering his second month as a member of the SGC, Teal'c felt a certain unabashed pride. Pride, not only that his son had chosen the same path as he, but that he had seen the wisdom and strength of that path, making his home on the same world as his father. Ry'ac's services had been accepted with gratitude; he had the respect and admiration of those with whom he served; he had earned a place on one of the SGC's coveted advance teams and, most importantly, the situation seemed to greatly agree with both Ry'ac and Teal'c's daughter-in-law.

Teal'c smiled as his son managed to sidle up next to him after breaking through a loud throng of old men arguing over a petty wager. "Kel sha, my son."

Ry'ac returned a sideways smile. "Kel sha, father." His smile deepened. "You appear to be lost."

"I am, in fact, exactly where I intend to be." Teal'c crossed his free arm over his elbow. "Earlier, I spoke to several elders and was on my way to join O'Neill in the negotiations. What brings you here?"

"General O'Neill asked if I would open the stargate so that he could send a message to the SGC."

"I have been near the gate for some time. Would not it have been simpler for me to do this?"

A sly smile spread over Ry'ac's face. "I believe it would have, father. However," Ry'ac reached over to his crossed wrist and lifted the sleeve, pressing a button on the translucent blue surface. "I believe this device must be activated to function correctly. Though, my experience with Tau'ri technology is still limited—it is possible that I am in error." A small squawk of static issued from the minute speaker on his vest as the radio synchronized itself to the encryption on the channel they were using. It was a flaw that Colonel Carter promised would be resolved immediately. The sound would be an unacceptable liability in battle but the other features of the new radios, including the built-in GDO, made them worth the temporary inconvenience.

"Indeed, you are correct," Teal'c said through a bare smile. However… in spite of Ry'ac's humor and relaxed manner, the remainder of his body betrayed him. It was subtle; perhaps only a he or Kar'yn would have noticed. He gripped his weapon warily, and his jaw muscles never fully joined the remainder of his face in levity. Obviously, something troubles the boy. Teal'c took a step forward, gripping his own weapon more seriously and raised an eyebrow. To his son's credit, he did not require further prompting.

"O'Neill does not trust the human leader, Symons. He said that Symons gave him… 'a bad vibe'."

Teal'c felt his own jaw set. O'Neill's instincts about people were very good, and rarely incorrect. A thought, though, crossed his mind. "What of the others who were in attendance?"

"Myself, Lieutenant Morgan and Doctor Jackson also agreed. Major Rand says he is hiding something but is not certain it pertains to the negotiations. The general requested that we… discreetly increase our observations."

"Indeed." _There would have been far greater value in spending the balance of my time observing the humans and not indulging my… vanity_. A small sound interrupted Teal'c's self-flagellation.

Ry'ac's radio beeped softly on his wrist. He reached out and depressed the VOX switch. "SG-5, niner, SG-5, two check in," Rand's disembodied voice asked.

"SG-5, two checking in. I am here Kyle," Ry'ac replied.

"Ry, I'm might need some backup. Bring your dad too, if you found him."

Ry'ac looked down at his wrist, flipping through a series of functions. "I have your position. We are on our way." Before he could heft his weapon to move, the voice called back. Teal'c didn't bother to check his own as it would have taken him a moment to switch to from SG-1 to SG-5 locator signals.

"Come up through the woods, not the ravine. And Ry?"

"Yes Kyle," Ry'ac said shooting his father a concerned look.

"Make it quiet."

"Understood," Ry'ac said after a pause.

Teal'c exchanged a quick look with his son before the pair silently slipped out of the bustling market. It was extremely strange for them to be called in such a way. The peculiar commander of SG-5 rarely did anything conventionally, but what he did was usually with good reason. Like O'Neill, his instincts were usually correct. Teal'c felt the cords of his neck tighten slightly.

They had learned many routes through this town, and were able to make their way out of it without drawing an excess of notice. By the time they made their way into the forest; the chill of the open air had descended completely, whistling through the skeletal trees and thickening the black mud to near freezing. The iron gray sky further shaded itself as they approached a wooded ridge. Beyond must be the ravine that Rand had mentioned.

They approached in silence, with Ry'ac occasionally checking their bearings. Far from any trod paths, the layers of dried leaves and shed branches grew thick as they neared the peak of the rise, slowing their progress. As they neared the top, they could see the wintry valley below, set in black mud, bare stands of trees and dry, brown grass. At the edge of a cliff drop-off to the ravine, they found a peculiarly arrayed mound of leaves. From a distance it could have easily been mistaken for a natural feature—excluding, of course, the exposed black sword hilt protruding into the dismal afternoon. Major, or Lieutenant Commander Kyle Rand lay prone, peering out over the valley. His distinctive sword was slung in its sheath across his back. Ry'ac blithely rolled his eyes at the sight. Despite the assurances of others, he was still most doubtful as to the use of such a weapon. _He shall learn quickly_, Teal'c thought with a mischievous smile.

Rand's sharp copper eyes were focused at something far across the ravine. Teal'c knelt beside him. "What have you found," he asked.

Rand sighed and jerked his chin outward. Teal'c drew his binoculars and peered out. "Midway to the tree line, straight ahead."

There… the portion of land indicated. The soil was discolored and smooth. "This area has been recently disturbed. It is quite large."

Ry'ac knit his brow, glancing between Rand and the area indicated. "You do not require," he held out his hand inquisitively, "binoculars?"

"He does not," Teal'c answered, stepping on his son's words. "Of what are you concerned?" He shifted to rest an elbow on his bended knee.

Rand looked to Ry'ac, who had been looking out through his own binoculars. "Ry, you remember our first visit?"

"Indeed, I do."

"Look… I don't know, twenty degrees to the left. Notice anything?"

Ry'ac's eyes widened slightly as he pivoted his body. "Was there not a village here?"

"Yeah." Rand smacked his lips softly.

Teal'c looked to Kyle with swift alarm. He rolled over half way, shedding his layer of leaves. He fished into the cargo pocket along his leg, his hand withdrawing a brittle, white mass, passing it over to the senior jaffa warrior. Teal'c knit his bare brow—with a start he tried to pull his attention away from the strange feeling on his face and back to the matter at hand. The material smelt oddly and felt strange. Ry'ac sampled the material himself, breaking the mass into powder between his fingers. Teal'c turned back, noting the mild look of disgust penetrating Rand's neutral mask. "What is this substance?"

Rand rolled up to sit on his haunches. "It's called quicklime," he said with a sigh.

It was an unfamiliar word: quick… lime. Why the concern? "What its use?"

Rand paused, his brazen eyes staring unblinkingly. After a moment, they softened a modicum. "It's a caustic compound. There are plenty of decent uses for it but it's most notoriously used to speed decomposition."

The connection was made. Teal'c narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw, the latter popping softly in the whipping wind. "You believe the village was razed, and the residents placed in a mass grave."

Ry'ac dropped beside them. "Why would anyone do such a thing?" He snapped his head toward himself and Rand.

Rand bit his inner cheek thoughtfully. "Oh, lots of reasons; none of them sane."

"Do you believe this is what the humans have been hiding?"

Rand turned his hat around backwards. "I'm starting to think so." He shook his head and swore under his breath.

Teal'c's eyes darted over the area. "How could they conceal a crime such as this?"

Rand reached down and tapped the nearly frozen ground. "Winter's practically here. There's going to be hardly any travel between these outlying villages and the main city," he jabbed his thumb back over his shoulder in the city's direction. "Eliminate the village and most people won't even notice something that small out here is gone."

"Those that do will have neither the weather nor the supplies to look further into it, or alert others. This seems likely to me as well." Teal'c ground his heel into the mud, allowing his lower body to expend his rage on the thickening concretion. "You do not appear greatly surprised."

Kyle brushed the remaining quicklime off his gloved hand, smacking it against his knee. "No, it's not that, but this isn't my first dance, T."

Ry'ac raised an eyebrow in exasperation. "How does this relate to dancing?"

Teal'c shot his son a glance. "It is a Tau'ri euphemism meant to convey experience with the situation at hand."

"I understand." The disgust filtering across Ry'ac's face was palpable. "How shall we proceed?"

Rand bobbed his head. "No, we can't. We need to be careful, though; keep this off the radio and talk to the general face-to-face."

Ry'ac balked. "Surely we cannot allow this to continue."

Teal'c turned toward him. "We will not. However, Major Rand is correct. We do not yet know if all the humans of this world are involved, or merely a faction." _This is beginning to try my patience. Ry'ac is a skilled, experienced warrior, but he must learn to trust the Tau'ri as I have_. Teal'c was forced to remind himself that he had had much to learn about their ways himself. Unlike him, until recently Ry'ac had spent little extended time amongst these humans. Fortunately, his teammates and O'Neill appeared to realize this as well, and were using these opportunities to teach and share. _He is learning—and understanding—and seems to grow more comfortable and enthusiastic in the process. However, the process is… difficult_. A flash of motion interrupted his thoughts, and he was apparently not alone.

"Father…"

"I see." Teal'c watched through his binoculars as a small jaffa child ran through one of the stands of trees at the bottom of the ravine. A single human in gray uniform was in pursuit, brandishing a weapon and a determined look on his face. The echo of a young girl's scream crossed the distance, assailing his ears. He chanced a glance at Rand, who was lifting his marksman's rifle to his shoulder.

He turned a knob on the scope. The device clicked three times and he sighted down the weapon. "I've got him." Rand's body relaxed and his breathing paused.

Teal'c looked back down his binoculars, wary of what he may see. The girl was slipping in the mud. Her dress, whatever color it had originally been, was brown with dried dirt near the top and soiled with damp black mud at the hem. She was slipping, crying out as she came to the churned-up section of soil and her footing failed her. The soldier paused and took aim with his weapon. A shot sounded, echoing through the small valley with angry fervor, like a thunderclap. The soldier dropped the rifle, and slid to the ground, planting his face in the mire; his limp limbs twisted akimbo. As his body settled, his head lolled to rest, exposing the missing section of the man's braincase to their view. The girl's howls of grief and fear drifted on the rising wind. Teal'c's blood pressure rose, but he lowered the device in his hands, not needing to view the display of gore.

Teal'c turned to watch Kyle, the flurry of emotions running behind his copper eyes. Snow was gently beginning to fall in fat flakes; those that fell on the extended barrel of his rifle melted instantly on the still-hot surface. With a slight pause, he slung the weapon and turned toward him on the balls of his feet. "Why don't you guys repel down and get her. I'll stay here, cover you."

Ry'ac turned on his heels, to face his commander, a look of total respect in his eyes, at long last. "Shall we return her to the city?"

Kyle nodded. "Yeah. I'll report to the general, we'll meet up there." Rand met Teal'c's eyes, implicitly seeking approval.

Teal'c nodded. "Very well. You will not accompany us," he asked as he and Ry'ac assembled their equipment and drove their pitons into some of the available stone.

Rand blew a stream of air out through his nose. "She probably witnessed what happened down there, and watched the back of a man's head explode. Humans did that. She isn't going to want to see a human face any time soon." He tipped a fake salute as they positioned themselves on the edge.

Ry'ac nodded and together they made their way down the cliff face in silence. The snow was beginning to quicken its fall by the time they reached the floor of the ravine. Near the cliff, the ground was rocky and broken. Quickly and cautiously, they crossed a small, frozen stream, making their way into the muddy field, guided by the horrible cries of the child. As they neared the stand of trees, the cries reduced to a sob. They hastened further, driving themselves forward, past the discarded body of the soldier that had been hunting her like wild game. They came upon the girl: her deep brown eyes staring vacantly into the distance, still against her muddied olive face that was being cleansed by the tracks of her fast falling tears. Her dark, sullied curls were gathered about her face, serenely catching the falling snow.

Ry'ac knelt, quickly withdrawing an emergency blanket from his vest. He shook the reflective material out, clenching it from being carried off on the wind. Teal'c walked over and helped him secure the blanket and quickly enveloped the child. He withdrew a pair of hand warmers from his equipment and moved to place them near major arteries, fearful she would be entering hypothermia. At his direct touch she seemed to notice him for the first time, cringing.

Teal'c took her chin and spoke softly, lightening his deep baritone voice. "You have nothing to fear. I swear that no harm will come to you." After a moment's pause, she nodded her assent, her eyes taking on a semblance of life, once more. He activated and placed the warmers and wrapped the blanket tightly around her, scooping her into his arms. With a sob, she curled against him into a ball, burying her face in his shoulder; she became but a small parcel in his massive arms. She was silent, but he could feel the gentle sobs coursing through her. The conflict between pity and rage within him was echoed in Ry'ac's face. Ry'ac soothed her, gently stroking her neck with the back of his hand, as the two of them exchanged expressions of naked fury contrasted with the gentleness of their hands.

She jumped and froze as Ry'ac's wrist radio issued its annoying tone, carrying Rand's voice after it. "I told you. I haven't seen any jaffa since this morning, in town. I thought they were out here, but… well, it's not the first time I've been wrong. Looks like they've all _run_ away." Teal'c and Ry'ac looked back toward the bluff. A number of gray figures surrounded Rand and, even from this distance, it was obvious that they had weapons trained on him. His hands were held high in the air. His voice no longer carried on the communications device, but the occasional tone and inflection echoed across the open area.

Ry'ac removed his hand and gripped his staff weapon. "Father, he cannot be asking that we leave."

With a flash of speed, Kyle dropped his hands. A glint of steel caught the gray light as he vaulted over a number of the soldiers. Rand was leaping high over the area, dropping the nearest enemy before he took to the air again. It was impossible to see any detail form here, but he accelerated to his full speed sparingly, doing so only when the party of soldiers fired on him. Teal'c permitted himself a grim smile. Weapons of that kind were ineffective, both against and by someone when the person in question is fully capable of moving faster than the projectile they fire; hence, the sword. Today, the gift from the Tok'ra was proving its worth in battle. He cut down each of the men one by one in blurs of extreme velocity_. However… he is doing so far too sparingly. He has defeated larger groups of better-armed opponents before, and more swiftly_. Teal'c knew that moving at full speed was difficult for him; it required concentration and was immensely draining on his strength. He was fighting in such a way as to conserve that strength, either to face a much larger enemy than was apparent or… as an intentional diversion. Or both.

Ry'ac seemed to be thinking as he, scanning the horizon swiftly. There: a small vibration in the ground and sound from the opposite end of the ravine. It grew in intensity and pitch until it seemed to slow and quiet. Teal'c did not need to see to understand: vehicles and troops. They were watching the battle on the bluff as he and Ry'ac were. His neck muscles tensed in anger as he looked down at the shivering bundle in his arms. "We must go—quickly."

Ry'ac set his jaw. "Go with her father. I will not leave Major Rand to face these hashaak alone."

Teal'c shifted his gaze back to the bluff. Rand was moving in full form now, his blade swirling around the mass of gray surrounding him as it grew at an alarming rate. The rumbling began anew. "I feel as you, but I cannot carry and protect this child alone. Major Rand has purchased time for our escape." Teal'c locked eyes with his son. "Do not make his efforts fruitless." With a terse nod, Ry'ac recovered both staff weapons and they began the dash across the field, to the safety of cover in the forest. Avoiding the mass of boulders and moss, Teal'c paused before diving into the brambles, turning back toward the cliff.

Shifting the precious cargo in his arms, he withdrew his binoculars and focused them on the area of his interest. Rand's sword stuck in the soil at his side and a double ring of soldiers, weapons trained inescapably at him, had surrounded him. Rand was breathing heavily and shuddering, clearly exhausted and overexerted. One of the soldiers, an officer from his appearance, stepped forward. He seemed to speak something, to which Rand appeared to laugh with a sarcastic grin. The officer then drew his sidearm, pointed it at Rand's head, and fired. The weapon's violent call echoed through the ravine, seeming to sustain for an eternity. Kyle Rand's body slumped to the ground and rolled down the cliff, bounced off the face and crashed into the frozen stream in the ravine below. It shattered the layer of ice and sent a spout of water into the air, brightly reflecting in the dying afternoon light.


End file.
